Under the Stars
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: The second Emma looked at Henry, she knew it was all over. He had enacted the third stage of Puppy Dog Eyes. When their gazes met, he even added a tiny, pathetic, "Please, Mom? Please?" for good measure. "Ugh, fine," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes so hard that if it were possible, she would have sprained her optic nerve. "I guess we can camp out tonight."
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Under the Stars  
**Summary: **The second Emma looked at Henry, she knew it was all over. While she had been turning everything over in her head, he had enacted the third stage of Puppy Dog Eyes. When their gazes met, he even added a tiny, pathetic, "Please, Mom? Please?" for good measure. "Ugh, fine," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes so hard that if it were possible, she would have sprained her optic nerve. "I guess we can camp out tonight."**  
****Spoilers:** None, really, but let's just say everything up through 2x10, "The Cricket Game."  
**Rating/Warning:** T, for Emma's mouth. Family fluff.  
**Disclaimer:** _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I borrowed some of their things but I'll return them when I'm done.  
**Author's Note:** So, I am apparently writing myself a little series of stories about things the Charmings never got to do together because of the curse, so they're doing them now. I figured you guys don't mind. ;) Shoutout to SamFanFirst, whose review on the relevant chapter of "Story Hour" gave me the inkling for this story. As always, feedback is love. Enjoy!

* * *

Emma Swan did not cook.

Well, not really. Boiling pasta and heating up sauce from a jar was easy enough, she supposed. Scrambling eggs and frying up some bacon was pretty easy, too. She could throw together tacos or a salad or even homemade pizza … as long as she had a ready-made crust available. She could even handle casserole recipes from the label of a can of soup provided the recipe didn't have too many steps.

Anything more complicated left her mind reeling, however, and forget trying to make things like sauces from scratch. Her mother and father ended up making dinner most nights for that very reason.

Though Emma didn't have Snow White's or Prince Charming's flair for the culinary arts, she had, over the years, damn near perfected the art of the grilled cheese sandwich. Henry had once confided that he preferred her sandwiches to both Snow's and Granny's, a fact that made Emma's heart soar. They had both agreed not to tell either woman that Emma could out-grilled-cheese them.

It was over plates of Emma's not-so-famous grilled cheese sandwiches with a side of sour cream and onion chips and dill pickle spears – because why the hell not? – that Henry decided to throw both caution to the wind and his mother for a loop. He took a deep breath before asking, "Mom?"

She should have known from the tentative tone of the kid's voice that he was about to ask her something she wouldn't like. She would have known, too, if she'd had more experience with the whole being a parent thing. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite yet learned how to discern the tone kids tended to adopt when they were about to drop a bomb on their parents. So it was with a mouthful of grilled cheese and no trepidation whatsoever that Emma answered, "Hmm?"

"I was just thinking … it's a really nice day outside, and the weather lady said this morning that it's supposed to stay warm all night."

Emma stopped chewing, quirking an eyebrow at her son. He typically didn't give her weather reports for shits and grins. No, he was up to something, though she didn't even want to hazard a guess just what that something could be. "Okay ..." she said once she'd swallowed her bite of sandwich.

When he started fidgeting uncomfortably in the chair, Emma knew that she was in trouble. Big trouble. "Well, you said when the weather got warm out, we could maybe go camping."

She almost dropped her sandwich. When the hell had she agreed to go camping? She freaking _hated_ camping. Never in her right mind would she have agreed to … oh, wait. The day she'd had the horrible head cold. _Damn_ it.

She vaguely recalled a discussion regarding Regina sometimes allowing Henry to camp out in the back yard – and how much Emma hated camping in general. "I believe my exact words were I would see about going camping. I also believe it was simply back yard camping."

"You did say you'd see but then you said you'd look into it when the nights got warmer," Henry reminded her. "The nights are warmer now. Tonight's going to be warmer than it has in a while, at least."

Right, now it was coming back to her. Her head had been pounding due to a sinus headache the size of Toledo and Henry had started to give her his patent-pending sad puppy dog look. She'd been in the kind of mood to agree to anything, just so she wouldn't have to expend any more energy on the decision.

And now it was coming back to bite her in the ass. Fantastic.

She glanced over at her son, who was looking at her with the same sad little puppy dog eyes he had given her the day she was sick. "Oh, kid, those things should be registered as lethal weapons," she groaned, setting her sandwich down on her plate.

"What things?" Henry asked innocently.

Just then, the apartment door clicked open and in walked Snow White and Prince Charming themselves. Soft giggles passed between the couple, making Emma almost involuntarily roll her eyes. Her parents had gone to Granny's for a lunch date – a little married people time, she was sure – and that was all the information Emma needed to guess what their conversation involved.

The giggling came to an abrupt halt when they saw Emma and Henry sitting at the table, which sent Emma's eye-roll reflex into overdrive. She now knew far more than she ever wanted to know about the nature of her parents' discussion. She had just barely stopped herself from groaning aloud when Henry exclaimed, "Guess what! We're going camping tonight!"

"Whoa, wait a sec!" Emma cried. "I never said yes!"

David made a concerted effort to hold back a chuckle while Snow's eyebrows shot to the ceiling at her daughter's outburst. "Oh, please, Mom?" Henry begged.

Emma attempted to stare him down but only lasted a beat. The pout had come into play, the pout that would, in a few short seconds, morph into the puppy dog eyes in earnest.

There were varying degrees of the puppy dog eyes, Emma had discovered. The first step was the one he'd utilized before her parents returned: a small pout and just enough excitement in his eyes that she knew he really wanted whatever he happened to be asking of her. When that didn't work, he ramped it up to the next level, the one he was using now. His lower lip jutted out a tiny bit further and he allowed a touch more enthusiasm to light his features.

And if that didn't work, he kicked it up one final notch. This last degree was the one Emma hated because she had yet to be able to say no to it. It involved the hugest pout Henry could give without looking like he was exaggerating and so much excitement and anticipation in his eyes that everyone in a five-mile radius knew any denial of his request would devastate him.

She usually tried to shut his more insane requests down before he had the opportunity to give her the Third Degree Puppy Dog Eyes. Today, though, it had progressed too fast for her to stand a chance. God_damn_ it.

"Camping sounds like fun," Snow said as she closed the door behind herself and David, who still looked like he was trying to hold back laughter.

"We're _not_ going camping," Emma insisted.

"Please, Mom?" Henry asked. Begged, actually, complete with hands clasped underneath his chin as if he were praying.

"Yeah, please, Mom?" David teased, finally allowing a chuckle at both his grandson's pleading and his daughter's increasingly flustered refusals.

"Camping is totally awesome!" Henry added with as much impassioned enthusiasm as the eleven-year-old could muster. "Please?"

Despite her son's drawing out of his final plea, Emma still shook her head. "Camping is not totally awesome. You know what's totally awesome? Running water, indoor plumbing, soft mattresses, and fluffy pillows. I did the whole camping thing back in the Enchanted Forest, remember? It wasn't pretty."

"That wasn't camping, Emma," Snow told her gently. "That was survival. Camping is much different. We'll have ready-made shelter, for one thing. There won't be ogres so we won't have to worry about setting up somewhere hidden, for another. We'll have sleeping bags and pillows so we won't be as uncomfortable during the night. We'll bring food–"

"Yeah, and we can make a campfire and roast marshmallows on sticks and make s'mores!" Henry excitedly interrupted. "You like s'mores, right?"

Emma _did_ like s'mores but that was kind of beside the point. "And we could all hold hands and sing 'Kumbaya' but none of that will make camping fun," she grumbled. "There's still watching out for poison ivy and sleeping on the ground and, let's not forget, no indoor plumbing. The _only_ good thing about camping is the food."

Well, crap. Now Snow looked disappointed, too. Emma heaved a sigh as she dropped her gaze to her plate to avoid seeing the dejected expressions on her family's faces.

All four of them were silent for a moment. Then, it was Prince Charming to the rescue. "How about we split the difference? We could take a cooler out to the woods this afternoon and do the whole hiking and cookout and sitting around a campfire thing but then we'll come back here for the night and set up tents outside."

"That's even better than just back yard camping!" Henry cried, an excited grin on his lips.

David smiled at his grandson before catching his daughter's eye. "We'd only be a couple flights of stairs away from indoor plumbing. I know you don't want to leave Henry outside by himself, and I don't blame you. This way, if you're uncomfortable and can't sleep, you can go back upstairs and leave Henry with us."

That … was actually quite a nice compromise, but still. Emma hated camping. Hated it with a passion. Her time in the Enchanted Forest hadn't helped matters but she'd hated camping most of her life. There was a reason, of course, but she would rather not think about _that_ right now, thank you very much.

She glanced from her father to her mother, who gave her a little reassuring nod. _It's okay_, the gesture seemed to be saying to her. _You can trust us to make this fun._

The second she looked at Henry, she knew it was all over. While she had been lost in thought and turning everything over in her head, he had enacted the third stage of Puppy Dog Eyes. As their gazes met, he even added a tiny, pathetic, "Please, Mom? Please?" for good measure.

Well, shit.

"Ugh, fine," Emma groaned, rolling her eyes so hard that if it were possible, she would have sprained her optic nerve. "I guess we can camp out tonight."

"Yes!" Henry cried, jumping up from his seat at the table. He ran to Emma and threw his arms around her in gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Whoa, calm down, kid." She did her best to sound annoyed but she couldn't help smiling a little as she returned his tight embrace. It was amazing to her how quickly she'd come to adore his hugs. "It's just for tonight. And when the mosquitoes come out to play, just remember that you asked for this."

He giggled into her ear, which just about melted her heart into a puddle of goo. When he let her go, a wide grin lit his face. "This is going to be so much fun."

Emma had her doubts about that – severe doubts, actually – but she returned his smile anyway. The kid wanted to go camping; she was not about to bring his excitement level down with her own misgivings.

Her appetite, however, was a different story. She still had half a sandwich and a few straggling chips left on her plate but she didn't have the stomach for them anymore. Sighing softly, she wrapped her hand around the edge of her plate and stood. "Finish up," she said to Henry. "We have a lot to do to get ready."

He nodded at her, a smile of thanks still on his lips, and continued to eat his lunch.

Her parents' faces sported similar grateful smiles when she walked towards them. "Thanks for agreeing to this, Emma," David said, his voice soft, as he took the plate from her hand.

"I should be thanking you for coming up with the compromise," Emma replied. "That was a good idea."

"You're welcome," he said to her before heading to the sink with her plate.

Suddenly feeling antsy, Emma turned on her heel to head upstairs. Packing some clothes for both herself and Henry would at least give her something to do so she didn't have to dwell on …

Just before she reached the top of the metal staircase, she felt a hand grasp her own. She knew who it was just by the soft grip. She turned, intent on asking her mother what she wanted, but Snow spoke up before she could even get out one word. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Emma answered, forcing a smile. "It's just … you were with me in the Forest. I hated it, the whole sleeping outdoors thing."

Snow's eyes narrowed for a brief moment, making Emma's heart skip in her chest. Emma knew that look; it was the look Snow used when she was trying to discern whether or not she was hearing the whole truth. Some higher power must have been looking down on Emma, because before she had time to work herself up into even the slightest bit of panic, Snow nodded and let go of her hand. "This time will be different, Emma, I promise."

"I'm sure it will be," Emma nodded. "I'm just going to get some clothes packed and then I'll be down to help you make sandwiches or pack hot dogs or whatever, okay?"

"Okay."

Emma gave her a smile and turned around. If she had looked over her shoulder, she would have seen her mother staring after her with a pensive frown on her face. She would have known that Snow had guessed her dislike of camping did not stem solely from their time in the Enchanted Forest. And she would have seen the strength in Snow's posture and the resolve in her eyes. No doubt about it, Snow White was going to get to the bottom of whatever her daughter was hiding.

But Emma didn't look over her shoulder. She simply continued up the stairs, oblivious to her mother's determination. She had a camping trip to prepare for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Once again, y'all rock. Thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites! This chapter ran away from me, and when I went to try to shorten it, I accidentally made it longer. Oops? ;)

* * *

Apparently, Snow White put a good amount of her faith in lists.

After getting together some clothes for herself and Henry, Emma went back downstairs to find her mother standing at the counter with two pieces of paper in front of her and a pen in her hand. A peek over Snow's shoulder revealed that she was in the middle of writing up a menu of sorts for their cookout later on that evening.

David stood at the fridge as she called out each item, giving her a yea if they had it on hand and a nay if they didn't. That was where the second sheet of paper came in: all the "nay" food items were going on a grocery list.

"Hot dogs are a definite," Snow said, marking them down on her menu. "I bet you Henry will want to cook those on sticks over the fire."

Emma's heart sank at the distinct lack of hamburger patties on either sheet of paper. "Whoa, what camping trip is complete without cheeseburgers? I was looking forward to a big juicy cheeseburger, maybe topped with a couple slices of bacon ..."

Her parents exchanged a look as David closed the refrigerator door. "Add hamburgers to the list," he said to his wife while giving his daughter a little wink. Then he raised his voice slightly so Henry, who had insisted on packing his own bag, could hear him from upstairs. "We should also add chocolate and marshmallows if Henry wants to make s'mores."

"I do!" Henry's thrilled little voice floated down the stairs. "Lots of s'mores!"

Emma allowed a smile at her son's excitement. No one needed to know she was looking forward to s'mores just as much as the kid was.

Snow finished off the shopping list with a flourish and stuffed it in her husband's hand. Taking that as his cue, he grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and, with a smile at his girls, left the apartment in search of food.

To the family's good fortune, the curse had set up David Nolan's house with some basic camping gear, which he had simply shoved into one of the apartment's closets after he gathered his things from the house when the curse first broke. They had sleeping bags, a cooler, a camping grill, and a tent, at least.

David was barely out the door a minute before Snow focused on her own list once again. She glanced up at the clock, narrowing her eyes in thought. "I don't think I have the time to make potato salad, but I can whip up some pasta salad quick enough. I have an unopened bag of chips in the cabinet–"

"Um, actually, you don't," Emma sheepishly told her. "Henry and I opened it at lunch. We didn't eat much, though … just a handful for each of us."

Snow chuckled. "There should still be plenty for dinner. You know what this list is missing? Vegetables. We need some vegetables."

Ugh, no they didn't. They were planning a cookout! No vegetables allowed, unless it was a garden salad or corn on the cob. "We'll have potato chips," Emma reminded her, playfully wrinkling her nose at her mother's attempt at preparing a balanced meal.

"Oh, yes, deep fried slices of potato that have been slathered in salt and artificial flavoring," Snow scoffed just as playfully. "That's so very healthy. Plus, in some diets? Potatoes are considered a starch."

"It's _one_ dinner. I think we can have one dinner without vegetables."

"I think so, too!" Henry called from upstairs.

Snow heaved a sigh at her two junk-food-loving family members. "I suppose I can allow us to have a nutritionally unbalanced meal, but only because tonight's special."

A little smile curled on Emma's lips but her amusement faded after a beat. Tonight _was_ special but just about the only thing she was looking forward to was dinner. Even the promise of a cookout complete with bacon cheeseburgers and s'mores couldn't stop the dread from rising in her chest.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she once again looked over at Snow, who was still frowning down at her menu. "What's the matter now?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just trying to decide if we need more food."

Emma gaped at her mother. "You do know there are only four of us, right?"

Snow finally looked up, giving her daughter a smile that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement. "Yes, I am aware."

"You don't think that hamburgers, hot dogs, pasta salad, chips, and s'mores for dessert is enough for four people?"

"I see your point," Snow laughed. "So now I guess the only question remaining is … Greek pasta salad or creamy macaroni salad?"

Emma didn't even need to think it over. "Creamy, please."

Another tender smile passed between mother and daughter as Snow finally abandoned her list to fill a pot with water and put it on to boil. "Once the pasta cooks, there should be just enough time before we leave for the salad to chill in the fridge a bit. It'll chill further in the cooler, so the flavors should have blended properly by the time we're ready to eat."

She covered the pot to bring the water up to a quicker boil before heading over to the fridge for the ingredients for the dressing. Emma simply watched her in fascination. She was moving around the kitchen so expertly that Emma could almost picture her hosting her own cooking show.

_Snow White's Kitchen_, starting next month on the Food Network.

As Snow carried everything over to the counter, she caught her daughter's eye. "You look like you want to learn," she said gently.

Emma could only imagine she looked as startled as the proverbial deer in headlights. This was the kind of thing she'd missed out on … learning how to cook with her mother. One of her foster mothers used to let her help in the kitchen, but unfortunately, that was not at all the norm, in Emma's experience. "I'm, um, not the greatest cook the world, so, you know, keep that in mind."

"That's why you start out with appetizers or sides that are pretty hard to screw up," Snow said easily, giving her a hopeful smile. "This salad is really just mixing some mayo, vinegar, mustard, and sugar to make a dressing and then tossing it with some pasta, pepper, and onion."

"Oh, just," Emma nodded, her tone sarcastic. "I'm used to recipes with four ingredients."

"You'll be fine," Snow assured her as she handed her the measuring cups. "First things first: one cup of mayo goes into the mixing bowl."

Mother and daughter fell into a comfortable rhythm. As Snow diced a green bell pepper with more control than Emma ever could have managed, she gave Emma step-by-step instructions on how to make the dressing. Emma paused in her preparation only once to pour the pasta into the boiling water.

By the time Snow finished dicing the pepper and moved on to the onion, Emma had begun stirring the dressing ingredients together. She dipped the tines of a fork into the dressing for a quick taste test.

The flavor of the vinegar was overpowering everything else. _Well, _that_ just won't do_, she thought. She reached for the sugar, added another pinch, and then tried another small taste. That one was _much_ better.

She felt more than saw her mother's eyes on her. "The vinegar was too strong," she shrugged, fishing a macaroni elbow out of the pot. She blew on the bit of pasta and popped it into her mouth. From the amount of bite left in the elbow, she figured the pasta still needed another couple of minutes.

Snow dipped a fork into the dressing to taste it for herself. "For someone who professes not to be the greatest cook in the world, you certainly know how to balance flavor pretty well," she said, her eyebrows raised.

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. "One of my foster mothers taught me how to make cucumber salad. The recipe called for cider vinegar but we would just use whatever vinegar she had on hand and then balance it out with sugar."

A tender smile curled on Snow's lips. "Do you remember how to make it?"

"If I thought about it enough, yeah, probably. Why?"

"I'd like to learn how to make cucumber salad. That is, if you don't mind teaching me."

Emma's heart jumped at the thought of teaching her mother something. This was something else she'd missed out on – not just her mother teaching her things but the chance to return the favor. She took stock of the ingredients out on the counter: sour cream, sugar, salt, pepper, vinegar. Nodding slightly to herself, she said, "We've got everything out already except for the cucumbers and dill weed, if you have it."

The little smile on Snow's face grew wider. "Two cucumbers enough?"

"Perfect."

Snow turned to the fridge to retrieve two cucumbers from the crisper and then searched the cabinet for the bottle of dill weed. A moment later, she returned to her daughter and set the items on the counter. "Ask and you shall receive."

"Thank you." Emma opened the drawers one after another, searching until she found a vegetable peeler. "First and foremost is peeling the cucumbers. I was lazy once and left the skins on, and let me tell you, that was a mistake."

"I'll peel cucumbers if you drain the pasta," Snow said, relieving her daughter of the peeler.

"Deal."

Just as Emma wrapped a dish towel around the handles of the pot, Henry bounded down the stairs with an overstuffed backpack hooked over his right shoulder. "Whoa, hold on. You guys are cooking without me?"

"It's not exactly cooking," Emma muttered, her attention focused solely on the bulging bag on her son's shoulder. "What on earth did you pack? We're going on an overnight in the back yard."

"Nothing, really," Henry shrugged, though the fact that he was already shifting the weight of the thing on his shoulder said otherwise. "I've got the hiking clothes and pajamas you packed, and then I've got my walking sneakers and a couple of books and a little bag of marbles–"

"Marbles?" Snow interrupted, eyebrows raised.

"Uh huh. I thought we could play when dinner is cooking. And I've got a book of scary stories and–"

"Whoa, kid, slow down," Emma said, swiping a hand over her forehead. The mere act of listening to Henry's list of activities had exhausted her. When did he think they were going to have time for all of that? "We're going camping for _one_ night."

A blush crept up on Henry's cheeks as he sheepishly met Emma's eyes. "Am I going a little overboard?"

"A little" was an understatement. Since she knew the kid was simply excited, she said, "Just a bit, yeah. How about we leave the books and the marbles here? They're making the backpack too heavy for you to carry on our hike, and depending on what time we finish up, it might be too dark to read or play marbles anyway."

Henry turned his mother's words over in his head for a long moment before ultimately deciding she had a decent point. He nodded in agreement as he let the backpack clunk to the floor. He unzipped the bag and pulled out not only his books and a mesh bag of marbles but also a worn deck of cards and a couple of hand-held video games.

_Seriously?_ Emma thought, blinking at her son's over-preparedness. A moment later, it hit her: Henry was used to going back yard camping by himself. Of course he would have packed all kinds of things to keep himself occupied; he wasn't used to having anyone to talk to during those hours between dinner time and bedtime.

He clearly hadn't minded the solitude because that was one little boy who loved himself some back yard camping. Still, the realization tore at Emma's heart.

"Okay," Henry said, drawing Emma out of her reverie, "I'm just going to put all this away and then I want to see what you guys are making." He grasped all of the extraneous stuff he'd packed in his arms and darted back upstairs.

The positively thrilled expression on the kid's face just made Emma even more aware of the fact that she was the only one not at all excited about this trip. She had only been camping – real camping, not "survival," as Snow had said – once before, but that trip had been more than enough for an entire lifetime.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to the stove and took the pasta pot off the burner, oblivious to her mother watching her out of the corner of her eye. "You know," Snow said, her soft voice capturing her daughter's attention, "if you want to talk about it ..."

"There's nothing to talk about." She rinsed the pasta with cold water until the steam stopped rising. "Now I just toss this and the peppers and onions with the dressing, right?"

Emma did not mistake the disappointment that flickered across her mother's face. Still, Snow shook it off a split second later, giving Emma a smile. "Yes. Then cover it and stick it in the fridge so it can chill. Am I cutting the cucumbers into slices, sticks, or chunks?"

"Slices, please." Under her mother's watchful eye, Emma dumped the drained pasta into the plastic bowl with the dressing she'd made earlier.

The two women were silent as Emma coated the pasta and vegetables in dressing and Snow sliced the cucumbers. After a moment, Snow giggled lightly. Emma turned her mother, trying to figure out what was so funny. Giving up, she asked, "What is it?"

"I just realized … if we bring the cucumber salad with us, we're going to have a vegetable side with dinner after all."

Well, shit. Without even trying, her mother had gotten own her way. "Damn," Emma playfully muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** Happy Mother's Day to any and all moms out there, and Happy Finale Day to everyone! (Oh, and I promise I will reveal why, exactly, Emma hates camping so much, but I do so enjoy being cryptic in the meantime. :))

* * *

Snow White paced the length of the kitchen, her cell phone pressed to her ear and a frown of consternation on her face. Emma, on the other hand, was trying her hardest not to laugh.

To listen to Snow talk, all of her careful list preparation had been for naught simply because she had forgotten to include a single line item. She had been trying to get a hold of David for a good five minutes now, first on the landline and then switching to her cell. Emma had no idea why her mother had made the switch other than the cell offering her freedom to pace since Storybrooke had apparently not yet heard of cordless phones.

When Snow disconnected the call with a frustrated grunt, Emma bit her lip to keep from smiling. "He's still not answering?"

"No, he's not answering," her mother grumbled in response. "I don't know what could possibly be so important that he's not picking up."

Before Emma could offer up any number of innocuous but legitimate reasons her father wasn't answering his phone, the apartment door clicked open. The man question stepped over the threshold with a cloth shopping bag hooked over his shoulder and a ten-pound bag of ice in each hand. "Oh, thank goodness!" Snow cried, dashing forward to help her husband with his purchases. "You remembered to get ice!"

"Of course I remembered the ice," David replied as Snow relieved him of one of the rapidly thawing bags while Emma grabbed the other. He shrugged the shopping bag off his shoulder and carried it to the counter where his wife had piled up of the non-perishables they needed for dinner. "I'm well aware that we need ice to pack a cooler."

"She neglected to write ice down on the list and was afraid you wouldn't think of it," Emma murmured to her father, giving an indulgent roll of her eyes. Even if David hadn't thought to buy ice, it wasn't like they couldn't have picked some up before heading to the woods. Why her mother was having a minor panic attack over ice was beyond her. "When you check your phone, don't be surprised if you have about seventeen missed calls."

"Three," Snow spoke up, her dry tone a clear indication that she was nowhere near as amused as her daughter. "I called him three times."

Emma shot her mother a smile that was half apology and half blatant sarcasm. "I'm sorry I'm not treating the Potential Great Ice Debacle with the seriousness it deserves."

A flicker of a smile tugged at Snow's lips as she realized how much she was stressing over something that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't matter at all. The nod she gave her daughter was meant to be curt – because she had to uphold the reputation of the Potential Great Ice Debacle as indeed being a serious thing – but instead came across as playful. "I accept your apology."

David winked at Emma as he emptied the grocery sack of the items Snow had sent him out to purchase. A package of hot dog rolls (because there was only one left in the pack they had on hand) and a head of lettuce (because the one in the crisper had begun to wilt) joined the hamburger buns and condiments Snow had already piled on the counter.

Emma eyed the cooler, a frown turning down the corners of her mouth. "You know," she said with a sideways glance at her father, "that sucker is going to be a bitch to carry with all the food plus twenty pounds of ice in it."

"Oh, Emma," Snow sighed, bemoaning her daughter's mouth.

"We'll make camp somewhere close to one of the access roads," David assured her. He was trying to resist a smile; Snow would have had his head for actively encouraging their daughter's language. "We shouldn't have to carry it too far."

Emma started to tell him that coolers came on wheels nowadays for that very reason but stopped herself. She was trying her hardest not to let her dread come across as sarcasm and negativity. Instead, she began to gather the camping supplies she had pulled from the closets. Now that David was back, she and Henry could start loading the truck while her parents packed the cooler.

"Henry!" she called to her son, who had gone back upstairs for one more thing to put in his backpack. "Let's go!"

"Coming!"

He wasn't kidding. He bounded down the stairs at record speed, skidding to a stop at the pile of stuff. The eager look on his face as Emma handed him a sleeping bag made her heart melt.

_He's the reason you're doing this_, she told herself with a little smile. _Just hold onto his excitement, and you'll be fine._

Henry reached down and picked up another rolled sleeping bag. When Emma handed him the yoga mat she'd found buried in the back of the hall closet, he frowned up at her. "Who takes a yoga mat camping?"

"I'm surprised you even know what that is," Emma muttered, brows raised. That was actually more surprising than the fact that Mary Margaret Blanchard had owned a yoga mat in the first place.

"I'm eleven, not dumb," Henry replied with the tiniest roll of his eyes.

She didn't want to come right out and tell him to watch his tone – because God, how mom-like was _that_? – so she simply gave him a look that got the point across without words. "If I have to sleep on ground tonight, I'll take whatever padding I can find, thank you."

Henry just shook his head as he tucked one of the sleeping bags under his arm so he could open the apartment door. "Sleeping on the ground is what makes camping fun, though."

"Says the kid who didn't spend countless nights in the Enchanted Forest," Emma reminded him. "Maybe sleeping on the ground is fun when you're a kid, but trust me, it loses some of its appeal when you get older." With that, she shooed him out the open door.

She grabbed the other two sleeping bags and the camping grill in an effort to make as few trips up and down three flights of stairs as possible. The only issue was that her hands were so full now, she had no way to close the door.

It seemed that Prince Charming was bound and determined to be her knight in shining armor today. He slipped the camping grill from her hand and grabbed the bag of water bottles she'd gathered for their hike before closing the door behind the both of them. "Um, thanks," Emma said, trying and failing not to sound confused, "but shouldn't you be packing the cooler?"

He shrugged halfheartedly. "Snow told me to help you." He cast a glance at the closed door before lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "To be honest, I think I was annoying her. Every time I put something in the cooler, she'd move it to a different spot."

Emma allowed a little smile. Times like this, it was far easier to believe that her mother had spent most of her life as a princess.

"Hey, here's something I don't understand," Henry spoke up from the landing. "How come you had three sleeping bags, Gramps? I mean, I have the one I took from my mom's house, but the other three came from your house, right?"

"I didn't have three sleeping bags," David told him. "I only had two. One of them must have been Mary Margaret's."

"But why would Mary Margaret have needed a sleeping bag?"

"The same reason she needed a yoga mat," Emma snapped, mostly because the conversation was beginning to make her brain hurt. "Or the same reason David Nolan needed a sleeping bag even though he spent twenty-eight years in a coma." She glanced at her father. "No offense. Who the hell knows why the curse set things up the way it did?"

David and Henry exchanged a troubled look. Henry gave a little shrug as if to say he had no idea what Emma's problem was before heading down the next flight of stairs.

The slump of the kid's shoulders broke Emma's heart. Goddamn it, she hadn't wanted to squash his excitement with her own negativity. "I'm sorry I snapped," she murmured to her father. "I just … really hate camping."

"Emma, we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Yes, we do. I promised him."

David looked her over, trying to figure out what was behind her reluctance. "Then you don't have to go. Let us take him."

"No, it's all right," she said while silently scolding herself to get it together already. "It's just one night. Besides, I have a bacon cheeseburger and roasted marshmallows in my future."

The expression on her father's face was loving and sympathetic, which simultaneously comforted her and told her that he saw through her blatant use of humor as a conversational misdirect. But where Snow would have pushed her at this juncture, David simply went along with her. "Bacon cheeseburgers are indeed one of the best things about this world."

Emma faked a gasp of shock as she finally started down the stairs. "You mean there were no bacon cheeseburgers in the Enchanted Forest?"

"Not a single one," he replied with mock disappointment, following behind his daughter. "No pizza, either."

"That's a friggin' travesty." Emma shook her head, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "If I had my way, pizza would be its own damn food group."

David chuckled at that, making Emma smile. The two of them exited the apartment building to find Henry already climbing into the bed of his grandfather's truck. "Be careful, Henry," David called.

"I'm being careful," Henry assured his mother and grandfather as they approached the truck. He took the sleeping bags from Emma's hands and set them next to the two he'd carried down from the apartment. Then he took the camping grill from David and placed it beside the sleeping bags before jumping back down to the ground. "We should bring the tent down next."

"I'll get it," David said with a smile. "You two stay down here." He headed back toward the building before Emma had the chance to protest.

As she watched him walk away, something new hit her: they only had one tent. David swore up and down he remembered it being a big tent, but should they really trust David's curse-given memories? And besides, no matter how big it was or wasn't, Emma was still going to have to share a single tent with her son and her parents. A tiny little shiver of claustrophobia made its way down her spine at the mere thought. This was going to be one of the most uncomfortable nights of her life, wasn't it?

"Mom?" Henry asked, startling her out of her reverie.

"What, kid?"

"You've been camping before, right? Real camping, not just back yard camping?"

She had, although she desperately wished she hadn't. "Yeah."

"And you didn't like it?"

Hmm, honesty or sugarcoating? She actually remembered enjoying the first night of her first – and, because of what happened on the second night, only – camping trip. She'd been so young then, though, and after that one night, all of her other experiences had left her none too pleased with the outdoors. "Not particularly," she answered as a kind of compromise between honesty and sugarcoating. "Why?"

Henry shrugged almost uncomfortably. "Because I was just thinking … I know Gramps went out and bought stuff and I know you and Gramma made food and we packed and everything, but we don't have to go camping if you don't want to."

Emma's heart melted yet again at her son's offer. Here she was, trying – not too successfully, she was afraid – to ignore how much she hated this particular activity for Henry's sake, and there he was, offering to give up something he really wanted for her sake. Even though it was over something as small as going back yard camping, the two of them were willing to sacrifice for each other.

She crouched down so she was eye-level with her son and took his hands. "That's very sweet of you, Henry, but we're going. I promised you we would go, and I don't intend on breaking that promise."

The wide grin that lit her son's eyes, coupled with the strong embrace he immediately wrapped her in, made all the negative emotions Emma was going to have to face over the course of the night worth it.


	4. Chapter 4

True to his word, David did indeed find a small clearing about fifty yards off the access road, which everyone deemed suitable for a campsite. Before Emma and her father even had a chance to set the cooler down, Henry took off like a shot for the path through the woods they were going to take on their hike. "Henry!" Emma called after him. "You need to stay where I can see you!"

The boy skidded to a stop just before the tree line and sent a wildly impatient look over his shoulder. Upon seeing his mother and grandfather just now setting the cooler down with a clunk, he heaved a sigh and pulled a water bottle from his backpack. In a classic example of childlike eagerness, he'd taken his water out of the cooler before helping his mom and grandfather get the thing off the bed of the truck.

Snow opened the cooler and grabbed water bottles for herself, David, and Emma. She distributed them with a calm smile before hurrying to catch up with her grandson, who was on the verge of impatiently tapping his little foot.

David chuckled and started to follow his wife while beckoning his daughter to join him. Emma hesitated, throwing a look over her shoulder at the cooler. "Are you sure we can leave this here?"

She'd locked all their valuables in David's truck before leaving for the woods, of course. Unfortunately, there was no way to lock up their cooler. A lifetime of protecting what little she had lest someone take it from her had left her largely unaccustomed to the notion of leaving something unattended and expecting it all to still be there when she returned.

"Who's going to find it?" David asked, giving her a little shrug. "And even if someone did find it, why would he or she want it?"

Emma gave a shrug in return. The only answer she could have given was that this world didn't generally work that way.

"It'll be fine," he assured her. "We shouldn't be gone that long anyway. Just a little hike and then we can get to the fun part, okay?"

"I hope you mean dinner and dessert."

"Of course I mean dinner and dessert."

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Okay."

When David reached down for her hand, Emma actually let him take it. She didn't pull out of his grip until they caught up with Snow and Henry, who had started along the path ahead of them. As she lightly shook her hand from her father's, she resisted the urge to once again call out to Henry to stay within her line of sight.

He was with her mother. Nothing could happen to him if he was with her mother.

Not to mention that Henry was certainly old enough to walk a little bit ahead of his family on a hike through the Storybrooke woods. He was old enough to understand that he shouldn't stray from the path they'd chosen.

She trusted the kid, she really did. It was everything else she didn't trust. Regina. Gold. The fact that to a child, every area of the woods looked exactly like every other area of the woods.

It was highly unlikely that this hike would turn out to be anything more than a simple hike through the woods. Still, if life in Storybrooke had taught her anything, it was that nothing was impossible and anything could happen.

As the foursome walked, David narrated their hike. This plant was poison oak, so be careful, and that bird was some kind of woodpecker, and hey, look at that baby fox darting through the brush. Emma was suddenly very glad they were sleeping in the back yard and not in the woods with baby foxes and woodpeckers.

At some point, the walking partners changed and David was now walking next to Henry while Emma and Snow brought up the rear. Emma glanced over her shoulder and was equal parts amused and horrified to find two robins, four sparrows, and a singular blue jay flitting from tree to tree, tagging along after the family. "That is the weirdest thing I've ever seen," she muttered. Which was saying something, considering all the weird and crazy shit Emma had seen recently.

Snow frowned at her before following her gaze to the tree they had just passed. A light flush of pink colored Snow's fair cheeks when she spotted the birds. "Oh, yes. You get used to that after a while."

"Having a feathered entourage?" Emma asked, choking back a snicker. "That is not something anyone should get used to." Snow smiled at her daughter, clearly pleased to see that the walk was loosening her up a little bit. "Is it just birds or is it all woodland creatures? Because if a parade of little critters starts following us, that would just weird me the hell right out."

"It's mostly birds," Snow assured her with a little giggle. "I do get the occasional woodland creature, but I wouldn't worry about it. They're very gentle."

Left unsaid was the fact that the woodland creatures were gentle with Snow because they knew she meant them no harm. "That's just so freaking weird," Emma said, shaking her head.

Maybe alongside that cooking show, Snow could also have her own program on Animal Planet. _Snow White, Animal Whisperer_.

Snow chuckled. "Like I said, you get used to it."

Emma smiled back.

A comfortable silence felt between them as David continued to narrate their hike. "Whoa, wait a sec!" Henry cried, halting in place on the trail. "There's a climbing rock over there!" He turned to Emma and fixed his best Stage One Puppy Dog Eyes on her. "Can I go? I mean, may I go? Please?"

All of a sudden, Emma had a flash of memory. Another little boy telling her about a climbing rock he'd seen, telling her no one would miss them if they split off from the group for a little while to go climbing. That same little boy taking her small hand in his own and leading her off the path.

She shook herself free from the memory and back to the present, though judging by the concerned look on her mother's face, she'd been lost in the past longer than she thought. "Yeah," she shakily answered. "You can go as long as you don't mind one of us going with you."

"Fine by me," Henry shrugged. David offered to take him to the rock, leaving Snow and Emma alone on the trail.

"Are you okay?" Snow asked as soon as the boys were out of earshot.

"Fine," Emma replied a touch too quickly. She walked to the edge of the path, plopping down on a rock the perfect height for a makeshift bench to wait for her father and her son. As she uncapped her water bottle to take a sip, Snow sat down beside her. Emma half-expected the birds that had been following them to fly to the tree above their heads, but they stayed sentry in the tree across the path.

Snow rested her hand on Emma's knee, stilling the leg Emma hadn't even realized she was bouncing in her anxiety. "Henry's going to be fine, you know."

"I know," Emma replied. "I just don't like having him out of my sight right now."

Though Snow gave her a nod of understanding, Emma could tell that she knew her concerns over Henry's safety were not the only things on her mind. Still, she didn't push it; she just let the fact that she knew speak for itself.

_Damn it,_ Emma thought. How much longer would she be able to keep this to herself? Her mother would worm it out of her sooner rather than later. Even as Mary Margaret Blanchard, the woman had had the most irritating ability to make Emma spill her guts – whether she wanted to or not. With nothing more than a kind and understanding look, Mary Margaret had pulled more secrets out of Emma than anyone else ever had. With Snow, it was worse. Because Snow was her_mother_.

Thankfully, before Snow had a chance to try to worm anything out of her, Henry's thrilled giggle reached their ears.

A split second later, Emma heard the crunching of leaves underneath her son's and father's feet. They were returning from the rock, she realized as she pushed herself to her feet.

At least she was off the hot seat for the next little while.

"Mom, you should have seen it!" Henry cried when he and David emerged from the trees. "The rock was maybe twenty feet high–"

"More like ten," David interrupted, catching his daughter's eye before she could pitch a fit over his allowing the boy to climb a rock that high without proper safety gear. Emma released a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"Well, it _looked_ like it was twenty feet high," Henry huffed. "Anyway, I climbed up and then back down all by myself!"

"That's great, kid." Emma grinned despite her kid's enthusiasm was certainly infectious.

Snow stood up as well now that the family was ready to resume their hike. The birds, Emma noted with amusement, began stirring on their perches at Snow's activity. "That's so weird," she murmured.

"What's weird?" Henry asked.

"It seems your grandmother has a fan club," she replied, pointing up at the tree.

It took Henry a moment to spot the small flock of birds grouped together on one of the low branches. "Okay, _that_ is awesome."

"Oh, it gets better," she murmured as the family started heading down the trail. "Just watch."

As soon as Snow passed the tree, the birds took off from their perches and flew as one to the next tree. "Whoa," Henry whispered, a smile of wonder on his face. "You were right. That was so much better!"

Snow looked back over her shoulder, trying to figure out what was keeping her daughter and grandson. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep," Henry grinned. "We were just talking about your new feathered friends."

Snow sighed and shook her head but she was smiling.

Emma allowed a smile herself when she saw Snow unconsciously reach out for her husband's hand and David just as unconsciously slip his hand in hers. "All right, you two," she teased, winking at Henry, "the holding hands thing is cute but just keep in mind that there are children present."

Henry clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle a giggle that grew into a belly laugh when David winked at Snow before pulling her close for a kiss. Emma jokingly made a gagging noise while Henry laughed, "Ew!"

"Ugh, and I have to share a tent with you people tonight," Emma groaned. "This is going to be oh so much fun, isn't it?"

Though everyone was clearly joking around, Emma thought she saw a blush creep up her mother's cheeks. Her father, on the other hand, simply grinned at her. "A joy beyond words, darling daughter."


	5. Chapter 5

Though the flock of birds following the family on their hike continued to grow, Emma was happy to note that no other woodland creatures attempted to join them. Well, one squirrel did hop behind them for a while but Emma couldn't be sure whether that was due to her mother, the reluctant animal whisperer, or if it was just coincidence. No matter the reason, when the squirrel turned off the trail and darted back into the trees, Emma let out a breath of relief.

The path they'd chosen wound through trees, around brush, and even ran a quarter-mile alongside a brook that led who knew where. Henry cast disappointed glances at the babbling water a few times before finally heaving a sigh. "If I had a change of socks with me, I'd totally walk right in that thing."

Emma allowed a smile. She remembered a day long ago when she'd waded in a brook very similar to the one beside her. Of course, she and her foster siblings had spent more time kicking water at each other than they had peacefully wading through the brook, but that was somehow beside the point.

That had been on the good day of her camping trip … before everything got shot to hell.

The path eventually veered away from the brook, causing another disappointed frown to cross Henry's face. "Can we follow the water?" he asked as he turned to face his mother, already prepping for Stage One Puppy Dog Eyes.

It was getting late, Emma realized with a small sigh. A breeze had begun to run through the trees. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and the faint rumbling of hunger in Emma's stomach told her that it was coming up on dinnertime. "Another day, kid," she promised. "I'd rather not get too far off the path. I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry."

In a turn of events that surprised absolutely no one, Henry allowed a brief moment of thought before saying, "Actually, now that you mention it, I'm getting hungry, too."

"You don't say," Emma smirked. An eleven-year-old boy was _always_ hungry.

"If I'm not mistaken, this trail is a loop," David assured his family. "We've probably got another half-mile or so before we circle back to the campsite."

"A half-mile?" Henry asked. "That's a piece of cake."

"Oh, thanks for that," Emma muttered, nudging her son's shoulder. "Now I want cake."

Everyone save Emma chuckled as they followed the path away from the brook. The half-mile passed under their feet quickly, and before Emma had the time to think of another joke, she could see their chosen campsite through the trees.

Henry darted ahead, eager to find small, thick logs to use as fuel wood for the fire. Emma had to resist the strong urge to shout after him to stay in sight. She hadn't even realized she'd quickened her pace in an effort to catch up with him until her mother latched onto her hand and tugged her to a stop. "He's all right, Emma," she murmured, her soft voice filled with sympathy and comfort.

She nodded, swallowing hard and setting her shoulders against her anxiety. Then, with her eyes fixed on her son, she shook her hand from her mother's as they walked forward and emerged through the trees into the clearing.

By silent agreement, it was decided that Henry and David would get the campfire going while Emma and Snow set up the grill. Emma had absolutely no objection to that; she'd had horrible luck starting fires in the Enchanted Forest – magical wardrobes notwithstanding. Mostly she'd just let Snow and Mulan take care of it while she and Aurora searched for fresh water to drink and whatever they could find for food.

In the end, Snow ended up doing most of the set-up by herself. Emma was too focused on the birds circling the clearing. The flock of seven had grown to about fifteen, though that total was give or take. It was hard to count them properly when they kept moving.

After a few moments, the birds all settled onto branches in various trees, surrounding the family. Emma smirked and arched a single eyebrow at her mother, who simply gave her daughter a shrug. "You mean you can't tell them to go away?" Emma asked with mock disbelief.

Snow returned her smirk before closing her eyes for a brief moment. The birds all took off from their perches at the same time, circled the clearing once, and then flew off in different directions.

Emma's jaw dropped open as she turned a look that was equal parts wonder and shock on her mother. "Son of a ... I was just kidding! Did you really tell them to go away?"

"Not in those words," Snow chuckled. "I simply told them that their standing guard, though a lovely gesture, was not necessary."

"You're shitting me, right?"

Though Snow did wince at her baby girl's language, the calm and slightly smug expression that settled on her features afterward indicated that she was not at all shitting her daughter.

"I'm not sure whether that's the coolest thing I've ever seen or the strangest thing I've ever seen," Emma muttered, squinting back up at the now-empty sky.

"Definitely the coolest," Henry spoke up from where he and David were setting up the ring for the fire. The wide grin of wonder on his face indicated that he was not kidding, either. David and Snow exchanged a grin.

Emma was leaning more towards strangest, herself, which again was saying something. Was this how it was going to be now? Would she see weirder and weirder shit until everything else seemed normal in comparison?

She shook her head, finally remembering she was supposed to be helping her mother. The camping grill had required very little set-up, however, and Snow had already turned it on and was waiting for it to come up to temperature.

Which was honestly just fine with Emma; she was getting hungrier by the minute. Apparently a two-and-a-half mile hike worked up quite the appetite.

She sat down on the cooler to wait. No matter how hungry she was by the time the food was cooked, though, she had to remember to leave some room for dessert. A couple of s'mores and even a few roasted marshmallows on their own sounded like gooey, sticky heaven.

That was another thing she'd learned on the good day of her one and only camping trip: how to perfectly roast a marshmallow on a stick. It had taken a few marshmallows for her to find the sweet spot between not cooked enough and charred but her foster father had been far more patient with her than any of the previous ones would have been.

"You're awfully quiet."

Snow's voice startled Emma out of her reverie. "Sorry," she muttered as she shook herself back to the present.

Unwilling to look over at her mother – because she would not be able to handle the gentle, loving expression that was surely on her face – Emma turned her head to check on the boys. There was David, arranging the thick logs of dead wood Henry had found to fuel the fire.

Henry was nowhere to be seen.

Emma's breath caught in her throat as she shot to her feet. Henry had been with David. She hadn't been watching him because he was with David. Her frantic eyes darted over the entire clearing but the only sign of her son was the backpack he'd abandoned next to the cooler.

Her heart throbbed in her chest so hard it echoed in her ears. "Henry?" she croaked. It came out soft and tentative, a far cry from the frantic screaming in her head.

Snow had turned away from the grill, her brow wrinkled in confusion. Emma thought Snow might be saying something to her but she couldn't tell. All she could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears and her own breath becoming ragged.

Before she could take even one hesitant step forward, Henry emerged from the trees with a bundle of sticks tucked under each arm. The wave of relief that washed over Emma was so strong that she sank back down on the cooler. He'd only gone to collect some kindling. Knowing Henry, he'd probably grabbed some marshmallow skewers while he was at it.

Emma could tell without even looking that the hand that slid onto her shoulder belonged to her mother. "Emma, you're shaking."

"I'm fine," she said dismissively, shrugging her mother's hand away.

"All right, enough of this." Emma looked up sharply at her mother's no-nonsense tone. "You don't normally panic every time Henry slips out of your sight for a few seconds. That only started when we got here. Something happened to you, didn't it? Something happened to you in the woods."

Denial was pointless, but Emma shook her head anyway. She had no desire to tell this story. She didn't want to relive it.

But she was reliving it whether she talked about it or not, wasn't she? It was around every corner, in every noise she heard in the forest. It was in the way she couldn't relax, the way she dreaded everything except for dinner.

"I'm not going to force you to tell me, Emma," Snow spoke up, her voice once again gentle. "Whether or not you tell me is up to you. I just think you'd feel better if you let it out."

For a variety of reasons, Emma had had no intention of telling her mother anything. It was years ago, and clearly, nothing could be done about it now. She didn't delude herself enough to believe she was over it, because she obviously wasn't, but it was over and done with. It had happened, and no amount of talking could make it un-happen.

Which was why she was just as shocked as her mother when she blurted out, "I was seven the first time I went camping. It wound up being the only time I went camping."

Snow sat down on the cooler next to her daughter and reached for her trembling hand. Emma allowed her to take it and even squeezed, almost against her will. It wasn't until Snow returned the gesture that she continued. "I was with one of the good families then. The Brownes had three kids of their own and two fosters, me and a nine-year-old boy named Timothy. One weekend that summer, they decided to take us camping. The first day and night were a lot of fun. We ran around, we hiked, we played in a brook, we told stories and sang around the campfire ..."

"Sang?" Snow gently asked when Emma let the story trail off.

She nodded, a tiny nostalgic smile on her lips. "Even back then, I hated to sing, but Mr. Browne's love of music was infectious. He taught me the words to both 'Beyond the Sea' and 'Piano Man' on that trip. I remember thinking it was really funny that he was playing a song called 'Piano Man' on a guitar."

Snow allowed a smile, squeezing Emma's hand again. Emma took a deep breath in preparation. "The next day, we went on another hike ... a different trail this time. Tim and I were at the back of the group. He stopped me and told me he had seen a climbing rock a little bit beyond the path. No one would miss us if we went to play for a few minutes, he said. Mischief was practically my middle name, so I followed him."

Emma felt more than saw Snow inch closer to her as she tightened her hand around her daughter's once again. In her mind's eye, all Emma could see was a tiny girl with bouncing blonde curls taking the hand of a dark-haired little boy. "After we walked for a little while, Tim stopped short, saying he heard a noise up ahead of us. I hadn't heard anything but he told me to wait while he checked it out."

Now all she could see was that same little girl, standing in the woods all alone, waiting for something that would never happen. "He didn't come back. After a while, I started walking forward, thinking maybe he just forgot to come back for me. It didn't take me long to realize there never was a climbing rock in the first place. Tim had led me out there and then left me on purpose. By then, I was hopelessly lost. I was so little and the woods were so big, and I didn't know how to get back to the campground or even the trail we'd been following."

She paused and looked up, finally meeting her mother's gaze. "I was alone in the woods for thirty-two hours before the search party found me."

"Oh, Emma."

Her father's voice surprised her. When on earth had he and Henry approached the cooler? Before she had time to even attempt to figure that out, Henry dashed forward and threw his arms around her in a tight hug. She hugged him back, squeezing just as tightly. "Why would Tim do that?" he murmured into her ear.

A look up at her parents indicated they had the exact same question. She let Henry go but Snow once again latched onto her hand. Snow was in full-on overprotective mom mode, so trying to pull away would have been pointless. "He was just a kid, too, remember. I never talked to him again after that, but my social worker told me later that he admitted he was jealous of me. He was the Brownes' first foster kid. Then I came along, and he was afraid they would adopt me and not him. In the end, we both wound up being removed from the house. It wasn't the Brownes' fault, of course, but neither Tim's social worker nor mine felt comfortable leaving us there in light of what happened."

"They didn't want Tim getting what he wanted if they removed you, and they didn't want him thinking he had been right if they removed him," David breathed, sudden comprehension on his features.

"Exactly," Emma nodded. "The only thing they could think to do was to remove us both. It sucked, though, because I really liked the Brownes." She met the eyes of each of her family members in turn as she let out a heavy breath. "So now you know why I don't like camping. I'm sorry I've had such an attitude but, as you can see, I didn't exactly have a boatload of fun on my previous camping trip."

"It's quite all right, Emma," Snow assured her. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell us."

As she looked at her family, a tiny smile tugged at the corners of Emma's mouth. As cliché as it sounded, she already felt a little bit better. Maybe now that the story was out, she could allow herself to have some fun.

Her stomach rumbled, once again reminding her that she was really flippin' hungry. "All right," she said as she stood up from her perch on the cooler, ready to inject some much-needed humor into this conversation, "you know what I need right now?"

Henry glanced from the cooler to the grill and then back at Emma. "A bacon cheeseburger?" he asked with an innocent little smile.

Emma grinned at him. "You got it in one, kid."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** This chapter is ridiculously sugary. I remain unapologetic. :)

* * *

While Snow cooked the cheeseburgers and hot dogs and David organized all the condiments, sides, and rolls on a folding table they'd brought from the apartment, Henry and Emma made themselves comfortable on the picnic blanket. Emma had snagged the half-empty jar of pickles from the table on her way past and was munching on the sour slices as if they were candy.

"Emma!" Snow cried, sounding very much like a mother exasperated with a rowdy child. Apparently, she'd finally turned away from the grill long enough to see what her daughter was doing. "I thought I told you to stop eating the pickles!"

Henry had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing out when his grandmother abandoned the grill, strode over to the blanket, and plucked the jar from her unsuspecting daughter's hand. "Hey!" Emma cried as she whirled around in her seat and made an unsuccessful grab for the jar. "But I'm hungry!"

Now Henry was trying even harder not to laugh. Emma was _whining_. Full-on whining like a cranky little kid. He made a mental note to remind her of this very moment the next time she admonished him for whining.

"You won't have any appetite for dinner if you keep eating these pickles." Snow turned on her heel and carried the jar back to the table.

"Um, hello, have you met me?" Emma called after her mother. "When do I not have an appetite for bacon cheeseburgers? Besides, it's not like pickle slices are filling. They're just taking the edge off." Snow sent a mildly annoyed glare over her shoulder before refocusing her attention on the burgers and dogs. Swallowing a smile of her own, Emma gave Henry a little wink, a clear indication that she was being annoying on purpose.

Henry grinned and winked back. Though her original whining had been real, she was playing it up now simply because she thought it was funny.

David snickered as he stepped forward to grab the jar's lid, which Snow had left on the blanket. "I think her real objection is that we won't have any pickles to put on the cheeseburgers if you keep eating them."

Snow sent another mildly annoyed glare over her shoulder, this time at her husband. To Henry's immense amusement, the look Emma gave her father was almost identical. "Hey, I'm not the one who chose to bring a half-empty jar with us in the first place," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why am I being punished for not thinking to have you pick up a full jar at the store?"

A frustrated sigh escaped Snow's lips as her glare turned even more no-nonsense. In response, Emma smiled at her mother, her face the very picture of innocence. The corners of Snow's mouth turned up in a smirk that was half-amusement and half-smugness. "You know, the longer I stand here arguing about this, the more at risk I am of accidentally burning this delicious-looking bacon cheeseburger ..."

Emma's eyes widened as she jokingly raised her hands in surrender. "No burning of the bacon cheeseburgers! I'll be good from now on, I promise. No more arguing." She even drew a closed hand across her mouth, mimicking zipping her lips closed.

That did it; David and Henry both burst out laughing.

It had been no more than fifteen minutes since Emma had finally told her family how she had spent almost a day and a half lost in the woods at seven years old, but the difference in her demeanor was remarkable. She appeared much more relaxed, and her jokes and the teasing came easier.

Of course, the real test would be later, after they'd pitched the tent on the apartment grounds and settled down for the night. One of her more strenuous objections had been the nighttime accommodations, after all. Plus, Henry was more than a little curious as to whether the yoga mat would make any difference. But he supposed they could worry about all that later. Emma was having fun now, and that was all that mattered.

Something occurred to him then, a way to make his mom even happier. He pushed himself to his feet and casually made his way over to the cooler. As he dug around for a fresh bottle of water, he gave a surreptitious glance up at his grandparents. Both Snow and David were standing at the grill, Snow turning the hot dogs and David flipping the burgers. Neither of them looked in his direction, so he snatched the pickle jar off the table and carried it back to the blanket along with his water.

With a mischievous wink, he sat back down and handed the jar to his mother. "You're the best kid ever," she murmured – softly, so her parents wouldn't hear – as she tore into the pickles. After a moment, she seemed to remember her manners and held the open jar out to Henry. "Want some?"

"Nah," he replied, giving a slight shake of his head. "I'm not a huge fan of pickles."

Emma stared at him as if he had three heads. "Who the hell doesn't like pickles? _Everything_ tastes better with pickles. Kind of like bacon, you know?"

"I don't like pickles," David called from the table, smirking when Emma started and tried to hide the jar behind her back.

"Then you're weird," she called back.

"I didn't say I don't like pickles," Henry clarified, hiding a smile at his mother's insistence that pickles were the best things since sliced bread. "It's just that we had a pickle at lunch and now I'm going to be putting pickles on my cheeseburger _and_ relish on my hot dogs. That's kind of a lot of pickles."

Emma turned her son's words over in her head for a moment before nodding, apparently allowing his argument.

"Besides," he teased, "not _everything_ tastes better with pickles. Would you put pickles on spaghetti? Or pancakes? Or ice cream?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, okay, you may have a reasonable point."

Snow's surprised voice startled them both. "Emma! How on earth did you get those pickles back?!"

Henry and Emma, masters of mischief that they were, exchanged an amused glance before cracking up. It took a few seconds, but Emma finally managed to control herself enough to hand the jar back to her mother, who – try as she might – couldn't hide the smile on her face.

"I think there might be a few pickles left for the burgers," Emma snickered. Her amusement faded slightly as something new hit her. "Hey, wait a sec. What difference do the pickles make if we have relish? Is there a law that says relish only goes on hot dogs? Why can't we put it on the cheeseburgers?"

Snow paused, the stricken expression on her face indicating that she didn't have a ready answer for that. "Dinner's almost ready anyway," she huffed, turning back to the grill.

"I think you made her mad," Henry stage-whispered. His eyes flicked to his grandmother to gauge her reaction. She once again tried and failed to hide a smile, which meant she wasn't really as aggravated as she seemed to be.

"That's what daughters are for," Emma stage-whispered back, making everyone grin. David winked over his wife's head at his daughter and grandson.

A comfortable silence settled over the clearing as Snow put the finishing touches on the burgers and hot dogs. Henry watched as Emma looked up to the sky and let the sunlight beat down on her face for the briefest of moments. He smiled, pleased to note how relaxed she seemed to be.

When David gave the word, both Henry and Emma got to their feet and headed over the table to make their plates. Huge mounds of macaroni and cucumber salads joined the promised bacon cheeseburger and one hot dog on Emma's plate. Henry wrinkled his nose when she squirted mustard onto her burger, causing her to frown down at him. "What?"

"Mustard on bacon?"

"I like mustard on my bacon. You should try it."

Shrugging, he grabbed a couple slices of bacon to add to his cheeseburger and squirted mustard onto the bun. He also took two hot dogs, a huge handful of chips, and some cucumber salad to try.

Snow's and David's plates were small in comparison to their daughter's and grandson's but they were still heaped with food, indicating the hunger level of the entire family. As everyone settled on the picnic blanket and began to eat, Henry asked, "Mom? Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Emma teased, "but yeah, sure."

"You said Mr. Browne liked music," he said, carefully gauging her reaction. Considering how her time with the Brownes had ended, he wanted to make sure his question wasn't going to put her on edge again. He figured that if it did, he could simply tell her to forget it. Since she seemed to be okay with it so far, he pressed on. "What other songs did he teach you?"

He'd expected her to shrug it off or even tell him she didn't want to answer. To his surprise, she set her hot dog down and shut her eyes as she thought back to her music lessons with Mr. Browne. "He liked oldies," she said, opening her eyes. "I don't really remember a lot of what he taught us; I was little. I do remember him teaching us 'Free To Be You and Me,' mostly because of how ridiculously cheesy it is."

Snow smirked at her daughter as she began to sing softly. "_There's a land that I see where the children are free, and I say it ain't far to this land from where we are_–"

Emma stopped her with a groan. "Of _course_ you would know that song."

"I was a teacher of small children for twenty-eight years," Snow reminded her with a laugh. "If there was ever a song that was tailor-made for children's music classes, it's that one."

She gave a little nod, indicating that her mother had a point. Then she turned back to Henry. "And before you get any ideas, no, I am not teaching you any of it. I don't play instruments, for one, and I don't like to sing, for another."

"Aw, but aren't we going to sing campfire songs?" Henry asked, his voice verging on a whine. "I can't go camping with Snow White, of all people, and Prince Charming and not sing campfire songs."

"You guys can sing all the campfire songs you like," Emma told him around a bite of cucumber salad. "I'll sit there with you and probably make a whole bunch of snarky comments but I am not joining in."

Henry glanced at his grandparents before turning a frown on his mother. Then he stuck out his lower lip in the very beginnings of a pout. "Oh, no, uh uh," Emma said with a vigorous shake of her head. "The Puppy Dog Eyes will not work this time. I am not singing campfire songs. End of story, Henry."

He allowed his face to fall back into a normal, if somewhat disappointed, expression. "Okay," he sighed. Satisfied, Emma gave a little nod and went back to her dinner. Over her head, Henry winked at his grandfather, who grinned back at him.

The wheels in his head were already turning. Somehow, some way, he was going to get Emma to sing at least one campfire song. All he needed was a plan.


	7. Chapter 7

After the family finished a calm and comfortable dinner, Snow sent Henry and Emma to stoke the dying fire while she and David cleaned up the grill and put away the uneaten food. "Are you ready to admit that you might have packed too much for us to eat?" Emma teased, giving her mother a grin as David folded the top of the bag of chips over itself.

Snow glanced from the uncooked hot dogs to the few helpings of macaroni salad and cucumber salad that remained in the plastic bowls. "Perhaps," she allowed. "Although, we did make quite the dent in what we brought. There aren't any burgers left."

"There are some pickles left," David laughed, holding up the almost-empty jar. "Want to finish them off, Emma?"

"No, thank you," Emma groaned. She was far too full to even think about eating anything else at the moment.

Everyone chuckled, which made Emma smile to herself. "Come on, kid," she said, leading her son over to the waning fire.

She may have had issues starting a fire, but stoking one was something she knew she could handle. She showed Henry how to carefully feed kindling into the fire to keep it burning steadily. "Lessons from the Enchanted Forest," she said softly when she caught him looking at her in barely concealed awe.

This had to be the kid's first campfire. Or perhaps his first fire, period. She tried to recall if she'd seen a fireplace at Regina's house but came up empty.

Her attention shifted back to the present when, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Henry reaching for more kindling. She eyed him carefully and was pleased to see that he was taking the proper care as well. "Oh, I forgot to ask you," she said after he'd drawn his hand back from the ring of flames. "How did you like mustard on your bacon?"

Henry narrowed his eyes in thought briefly before saying, "It was different."

David's chuckle drifted to them from the cooler. "A glowing review from Henry Mills," he said, closing the lid. All the food was finally put away.

"It wasn't a _bad _different," he insisted with a little shrug. "It was just different."

"Well, I like it," Emma sniffed.

She met Henry's amused eyes briefly before facing the fire and watching the flames dance in the dying daylight. Her father and Henry had built a nice fire, she realized as the wood crackled and popped.

The sound reminded her of other campfires. The fun one with the Brownes, Mr. Browne strumming on a guitar and, much to Mrs. Browne's amusement, attempting to teach five children under the age of eleven all the words to "Piano Man." The fires in the Enchanted Forest, built not for togetherness but out of necessity. Built for light and warmth and cooking what little they could find to eat.

She felt her mother's hand slide onto her shoulder as she and David joined her and Henry at the fire. From the look in Snow's eye, she knew exactly where Emma's mind had gone,  
and from the comforting smile she gave her, it was clear she wished she could make it better. Emma smiled back and tried to force the memories back where they belonged.

"So," Henry said almost hesitantly after everyone was comfortably settled around the fire, "campfire songs?"

Emma groaned inwardly. She thought they might be able to have a little bit of time to sit before jumping into the campfire activities. Still, she'd told her family they could all sing around the campfire if they so chose, and apparently they were choosing. "Nothing too cheesy, all right, kid?"

"So, no 'Kumbaya?'" Henry asked, swallowing a mischievous giggle.

"Exactly."

"We could start with 'Clementine,' maybe?"

"Actually, you know what?" Emma asked, a tiny smirk on her lips. "Have you ever noticed that a bunch of these supposedly children's songs are not at all appropriate for kids?"

Her parents exchanged an amused glance while raising their eyebrows at each other. Emma grinned to herself, already planning to ramp this joke up to be the rant to end all rants. "All right," Snow sighed. "I'll bite. What do you mean that the songs are not appropriate for kids?"

"Well, Clementine dies, for one thing," Emma said, ticking the point off on her finger.

David bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. "It's a parody, Emma. She falls into the drink, yes, but she falls into the drink because she gets a splinter. How on earth a splinter knocks her into the river is beyond me, but the absurdity is part of the joke."

"Plus, the singer forgets all about his darlin' Clementine in the last verse after he kisses her sister," Snow pointed out.

"That depends on the version you hear," Emma reminded her. "Sometimes the last verse includes Clementine's old miner father dying of a broken heart to be with her. None of it is appropriate for kids, though, because yes, let's make death funny."

Her parents were trying not to laugh while Henry was grinning like the little kid that he was. Since her rant was being well-received, she continued. "And that's not the only one. The clock stops when the grandfather dies. You eat a rotten peanut and die. You swallow the littlest worm in your soda straw even though he begs you not to. Which, by the way, means you've committed premeditated worm murder after your victim has begged for its life. That's just _cold_."

"And you're a baby bumblebee murderer!" Henry added.

Emma ticked Henry's point off on her finger in addition to her own. "And a baby bumblebee murderer. The old lady who swallows the fly dies. And then there are all those people who try to kill that cat."

"But the cat comes back," Snow pointed out.

"The very next day!" David added with a laugh.

"Yeah, and at the end of some versions of that song? The entire world is blown up by nuclear bombs … all except for the cat. It's morbid!"

By now, the whole family was laughing. "You've clearly spent a lot of time thinking about this," David said around a chuckle.

"You don't even want to get me started on 'I've Been Working on the Railroad.'"

Snow's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What's wrong with 'I've Been Working on the Railroad?' From what I remember, no one dies in it."

"No, no one dies in it," Emma admitted, "but there is something _funny_ going on in that kitchen, if you know what I mean. Why else would the singer care if anyone's in the kitchen with Dinah?"

She could tell from the amused but bewildered look on Henry's face that he didn't have any idea what she was hinting at, but her parents certainly understood. "No one's doing anything untoward, Emma," David laughed. "They're playing music! _Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah, strummin' on the old banjo_."

Emma snorted. "Yeah, like _that's_ not a euphemism."

"What's a euphemism?" Henry asked with a little frown.

"Nothing," Emma replied quickly, because she was _not _about to explain it to him. That was a parent-child discussion for which she was not at all prepared. "My point is, Dinah and this unnamed someone are having _'_fun' while Dinah's husband is working on the railroad all the live-long day."

Although Henry clearly didn't have the faintest clue what Emma was talking about, he was laughing just as hard as his grandparents. "A lot of kids' songs are weird," he said after he caught his breath. "I mean, think about it. How does the baby get in the treetops, and why does no one care when the bough breaks?"

"And how did the monkey get drunk at the animal fair?" David asked.

"Why does the itsy-bitsy spider insist on crawling up the water spout if it's just going to keep getting washed out again?" Snow added.

"_Now_ you're all getting it," Emma laughed.

After the family's laughter had a chance to die down, Henry asked, "Mom? Did you have a favorite song when you were little?"

"What, kids' song?"

"Any song."

She thought for a moment. Aside from the Brownes and her fifth-grade music teacher, no one had really tried to cultivate musical interest in Emma. She liked music, of course, but she didn't exactly have a childhood filled with music and the arts.

"Surprisingly enough,"she eventually admitted, "I was always kind of partial to 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' from _Mary Poppins_." She paused as a vaguely horrifying thought hit her. "Wait. Mary Poppins isn't real, is she? Like, she's not running the Storybrooke Day Care Center or anything, right?"

Again, everyone laughed. "You never know," Henry told her with a cryptic smile.

Emma didn't even want to think about what his little smile could possibly mean. So she put it right out of her head, along with the notion of accidentally bumping into Mary Poppins on the way into Granny's or something.

Then again, after finding out that fairy tales were real and hanging out with Mulan and Aurora and finding out that she was a fairy tale princess herself? The Mary Poppins thing didn't seem all that weird. Certainly no weirder than Snow White being her mother.

"We could sing 'Let's Go Fly a Kite," Henry offered, smiling hopefully across the flames at her.

Emma narrowed her eyes at her son, knowing in an instant what was trying to do. Well, he could keep dreaming because singing – around a campfire, no less – had barely been fun when she was a kid. "You guys can sing whatever you want."

"As long as it's not cheesy or morbid," David said to his grandson while winking at his daughter.

"Exactly."

When Henry's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, Emma could tell he was trying to think of another tactic, another way to get her to sing. She smiled to herself; the kid was stubborn, she'd give him that. She was coming to discover that innate stubbornness ran through her family's genes.

She sat and listened as her family launched into "Let's Go Fly a Kite." It took Henry a moment to properly harmonize but after a false start, he managed to blend his young voice quite well with his grandmother's soft lilt. What surprised Emma the most was that her father had a surprisingly decent voice as well.

Things were going quite well until they reached Bert's verse. Henry stumbled over the words, causing Snow and David to stutter to a confused stop. _Seriously? _Emma thought. It wasn't like the song was all that hard.

She heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes, and opened her mouth to correct her son's mistaken lyrics. "_You can dance on the breeze over houses and trees with your fist holding tight to the string of your kite_."

It wasn't until her parents both stared at her in shock and a smug grin pulled at Henry's mouth that she realized she had sung the line. When she brought her hands up to cover her face, embarrassed, she heard the entire family giggling.

"It's okay, Emma," Snow said, her amused tone soft as she gave her daughter's knee a gentle pat.

When Emma brought her hands down and looked back up at Henry, she noticed that the smug expression was still on his face. And that was when she realized that he had screwed up on purpose, knowing she would correct him. "Ugh," she groaned. "I walked into that, didn't I?"

"Yep," Henry chuckled. "Smack into it."

Over the amused snickers of her parents, Emma said with a sigh, "Well, there you go, kid. You got me to sing. You happy now?"

His grin grew wider. "Yep."

* * *

**Author's Note:** To give credit where credit is due, the entire "I've Been Working On the Railroad" discussion was actually dinnertime conversation within my family one night. It's my brother's theory, but I thought it was funny, so I hope he doesn't mind me co-opting it. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Because father/daughter moments seem to find their way into my stuff on their own ... (Seriously, this chapter wrote itself. I just typed it. ;))

* * *

The family sang two more campfire songs, neither of which were cheesy or morbid and neither of which Emma joined in on, thank you very much. After the second song, Henry began to make noises about being ready to roast marshmallows. Emma wrinkled her nose; she was still a bit full from dinner, but hey, if the kid wanted to roast marshmallows, who was she to stand in his way?

She pushed herself to her feet. "I'll get the stuff for the s'mores from the cooler." Her parents both gave her grateful smiles while the excitement on Henry's face told her he was craving sugar he didn't really need. She smiled back, turning towards the cooler as her family launched into "Billy Boy."

It may have seemed like she was just trying to be nice but in reality, she wanted – no, _needed_ – a minute alone. So much family togetherness all at once was goddamned _hard _for her, and though she was getting better at it, she still needed a break every so often. Not a break from her family or anything, just a moment by herself to regroup.

Because every now and then it would hit her: this was how her life should have been. If it hadn't been for Regina's curse, this was how her life _would_ have been – full of love and laughs and warmth and comfort. It was such a far cry from how she grew up that attempting to reconcile what had been with what should have been was overwhelming.

"Are you all right?" a soft voice asked from behind her.

She spun around, the lid of the cooler slamming closed and muffling her gasp. Her father stood behind her, a sympathetic cringe on his face. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"No," she started to say, then sighed. Denying he'd startled her would have been pointless. "It's okay. And to answer your question, I'm fine."

The already kind expression on his face grew impossibly kinder, his eyes softening as he looked her over. He reached out as if to lay a hand on her shoulder but then paused, suddenly unsure whether she would welcome the contact. He dropped his hand back down to his side, settling for giving her a calm smile instead. "Just making sure."

A pang of guilt tore through Emma. Any other father would have been able to comfort his daughter the way David had intended, but not hers. Emma's childhood had conditioned her to be wary of people, to not let anyone in, to not let anyone behind her walls. Prior to Henry knocking on her door the night of her twenty-eighth birthday, every single person she'd let in had let her down, in one way or another.

It was the system that was supposed to help her but instead took her away from the nice families and placed her with the awful ones. It was the social worker who'd tried her hardest but had had dozens of other kids to take care of as well. It was the little boy she'd considered a friend who had abandoned her among tall trees and thick thorns and underbrush. It was the man who'd promised to make a home with her – her first home ever – and then turned her over to the cops, sending her to jail in his place.

David turned to go back to the fire, and all of a sudden, Emma didn't want to be alone with her thoughts anymore. "I'm sorry."

He turned back to her, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Why are you apologizing?"

Her first instinct was to tell him to forget it. To let him go back to his family while telling him she'd be right behind him with the fixings for the s'mores.

A smaller, more insistent part of her understood that doing so would be choosing the easy route. Letting her family in – _really_ letting them in – meant taking a chance. With a deep breath through her nose, she squared her shoulders and looked her father in the eye. "It's just that I look at you and Mary Margaret and Henry together, and it all seems so … effortless for you. It's not effortless for me. It's really damn hard, and I just ..." She trailed off, tearing her gaze from his.

"Oh, Emma," David said, his voice full of sympathy. He stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed gently, his hesitance over showing her physical comfort apparently over. "It's not effortless for us, either. The last time your mother and I saw you, you were the most precious little baby girl. Twenty-eight years passed for us in, essentially, the blink of an eye, and now you're a grown woman. We have to come to terms with the fact that we missed out on your entire childhood. Your first words, your first steps, your first day of school ... all those little milestones parents are supposed to share with their children. We weren't there for you the way parents should be there for their children. Even things like taking you on a camping trip and singing around a campfire. Strangers did those things for you, Emma, not us, and believe me, it kills us. And that's not even getting into all the things you should have had but didn't."

Emma's vision had started to blur with tears and the telltale tickle in the back of her throat told her that a lump had begun to form. She tried to pull out of her father's grip and stop this conversation in its tracks – taking a chance be damned – but David held on tightly. "We wanted so much more for you, Emma. We wish we could have been there for you, and we know that every time you pull away from us, it's because of our choice and because of what our choice cost you. But you know what? We have each other now. We've lost enough time with you, and we're determined not to let any more time slip through our fingers. So, no, it's not effortless but I promise you, it's worth it."

The tears in Emma's eyes spilled over before she had a chance to blink them back. David smiled gently at her, removing his hands from her shoulders as she stepped back to dry her cheeks. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded, sniffing back the rest of her tears. She darted her gaze across the campsite at her mother and son before refocusing on her father. "I just wish I knew how to start. All the family togetherness stuff, I mean."

"You already have," he told her kindly. "You're here. You're with us, doing something you don't even like just because Henry wanted to do it. That's how it starts, Emma … just by being together. The rest of it will fall into place with time."

A little smile began tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Where in the hell did you learn all of that?" she asked, trying her best to inject a teasing lilt into her voice.

"It's a father thing," she said, giving her both a wink and a mock self-deprecating shrug. Emma chuckled before running her hand over her face in an effort to regain her composure. "You're good now?"

She cast another glance across the clearing. Henry was looking over the flames at the cooler, his brows knit in a perplexed frown, clearly wondering what was taking them so long to get the stuff for the campfire snacks. Upon being caught staring, he quickly returned his attention to the fire. "Yeah," she said, flicking her gaze back to her father's. "Yeah, I'm good now."

David smiled at her. "Good, because I think Henry's on the verge of stomping over here and asking us what the hell's taking so long."

She chuckled, mostly because she could definitely see that happening. She bent down and once again opened the cooler to retrieve the marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. If she didn't hurry, they would have a hungry – and thereby cranky – eleven-year-old boy on their hands, and no one wanted that.

As they walked across the clearing to the campfire, David hesitantly slid his arm around his daughter's shoulders. Emma tensed for a brief moment, barely the space of a heartbeat, but before David had a chance to remove his arm, she relaxed her shoulders and welcomed his touch instead. Father and daughter exchanged a smile, his grateful and hers tentative.

She was trying, and that was enough for him.

The second they were seated around the fire, Emma back in place next to Snow and David beside Henry, the boy ran over to his mother for some marshmallows. She handed a whole bag to him, along with a box of graham crackers and a few chocolate bars, while keeping the rest for herself and her mother. "That's for you and David, kid," she told him. "Make sure you share."

"I will," he chuckled, practically skipping around the fire as he returned to his seat. He picked up his stick-turned-marshmallow skewer – examined previously by Snow and David to make sure the wood was safe – and stabbed the end of it through a marshmallow. Carefully following David's instruction, he held the skewer over the fire.

Emma watched him to make sure he didn't get too close to the flames for her comfort. When he pulled a lightly browned marshmallow away from the fire, she relaxed enough to skewer her own marshmallow. While Emma browned her marshmallow, Snow began setting up a kind of s'more assembly station. She broke apart graham crackers and set pieces of chocolate on top of them.

"Would you like some?" she asked when Emma brought her marshmallow out of the fire, holding up a graham cracker piece so her daughter would know what she meant.

"Yes, please," Emma smiled. She held her skewer out to her mother, who sandwiched the marshmallow between chocolate and graham cracker before gently sliding it off the stick. After letting the gooey concoction cool for a moment, she handed it over to her daughter. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome," Snow said softly. She opened her mouth as if to say something else but then seemed to change her mind, spearing her own marshmallow instead. As she held her treat over the flames, she glanced at her daughter, who was enjoying her s'more with just as much enthusiasm as her eleven-year-old son.

She looked across the fire at her husband, their eyes meeting. He nodded at her, which was the exact encouragement she needed.

Emma caught the silent exchange, understanding for the first time what her father had meant about things not being effortless for them, either. Each of their interactions with her was a carefully choreographed dance. They wanted to be her parents but they also wanted to give her the space she needed. They wanted to comfort her but they also wanted her to feel comfortable. It was a fine line they were walking, and they'd been doing it so well she hadn't even noticed their struggle.

It was then that Emma realized that sometimes, she needed to be the one to open the door. "I see where his nickname came from now," she said to her mother, answering the question her mother wanted to but dared not ask about the talk she'd had with her father. "Charming, I mean."

Snow smiled at her, touched that she'd chosen to open up to her, at least a little bit. "Yes, he's pretty good with his words when he puts his mind to it. So what he said helped?"

"It did."

"I'm glad."

Emma smiled back. "I am, too."


	9. Chapter 9

Night fell over the family as they roasted their marshmallows, made their s'mores, and shared lame jokes and even lamer scary stories. It had started slowly, with a faint reddening of the sun's light. The light had grown more intense as the sun went down, almost as if the sun didn't want to give up the fight against the coming darkness. Then, what felt to Emma like mere seconds later, it was dark. The flickering flames of the campfire provided the only illumination in the entire clearing.

After a while, Emma stopped talking and just listened, taking in the activity – both seen and unseen – around her. The chirping of the crickets in the brush, the song of the spring peepers, the hoot of an owl somewhere in the trees. Henry laughing at one of his grandfather's funny jokes or groaning at a lame one. He would even let out a combination laugh and groan at the not as rare as one might think lame _and_ funny joke.

When a shiver made its way down Emma's spine despite the heat of the fire, Snow suggested putting the fire out and heading back to the apartment. They still had a tent to pitch, after all, and it was getting late.

It didn't take much convincing for everyone to agree, though Henry was so hyped up on s'mores that Emma suspected he would have agreed to pretty much anything. Maybe she shouldn't have let him have that fifth one. Or the fourth one, for that matter.

David switched on a camping lantern before filling a bucket with melted ice from the cooler and pouring it over the fire. "We need someone to watch the fire and make sure that it's completely out before we go."

"I can do it," Emma said as she switched on a lantern of her own. She had the Enchanted Forest to thank for that, too. She'd gotten all kinds of practice making sure their fire was completely snuffed before they moved on. The land had been ravaged enough, they'd all agreed. Inadvertently starting a forest fire had not been high on anyone's list.

"Okay," David smiled. Henry and Snow both got to their feet and followed David back to the cooler so they could begin packing up.

Emma watched them go and then turned back to the fire. A few straggling embers were hanging on. A half-smile curled on her lips as she remembered watching the dying fire that night with the Brownes, too. Something about the way the coals brightened and faded and brightened again as they burned themselves out had fascinated her back then.

Truth be told, it still kind of fascinated her now. Much like the sun's rays brightening in those last moments as night overtook day, the dying embers brightened, fighting until they had no fight left.

Her mother's soft voice calling her name startled her back to the present. She turned around to find Snow holding up a lantern and smiling kindly at her in the semi-darkness. "We're going to start bringing things out to the truck. Do you want us to leave Henry with you?"

The offer to leave Henry with Emma was a rather blatant attempt at making sure she wasn't left alone in the woods unless she wanted to be. Blatant or not, a little smile of gratitude tugged at Emma's mouth. The smile grew into smirk when Henry clasped his hands under his chin in a pleading gesture behind his grandparents' backs. "Yeah, he can stay here. If you don't mind, that is."

"Of course we don't," Snow smiled. She and David picked up as much of their camping equipment as they could carry along with their lanterns and headed off into the trees, back towards David's truck parked on the access road.

Henry ran over to Emma and plopped down next to her, not quite close enough to be on top of her but close enough that he had invaded her personal space. The kid had constantly been in her bubble since her return from the Forest but she was finding, to her complete surprise, that she didn't really mind. Not with him, anyway.

"Thanks," Henry murmured, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his grandparents were well out of earshot. "I didn't realize that camping would be so much _work_!"

Emma snorted in amusement. "What, you thought all you were going to have to do was curl up in a sleeping bag and be done with it?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he admitted sheepishly. "When I used to do this before, my mom would set up the play tent in the back yard for me, and all I would have to do to get ready was bring my sleeping bag and my backpack outside."

She smiled kindly before returning her attention to the fire. "If we were staying out here, even just for the night, there would have been a lot more work to do." She didn't dare tell him that, from what she recalled of watching the Brownes, pitching a tent wasn't exactly an easy feat, either. After a moment of silence, she turned her head to look him in the eye. "Are you having fun, though? Even if it is a lot of work?"

"I'm having a blast!" he told her excitedly. He paused before taking a deep breath and asking, "Are you?"

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I am."

"Really? Because, you know, you can tell me if you're not."

"I'm having more fun than I thought I would," she told him sincerely. She'd thought she would hate every minute of this activity but so far, it had turned out far better than she'd been expecting. She didn't think she'd ever _like_ camping but she didn't think she absolutely abhorred it anymore, either.

"That's good," Henry replied, his eyes sparkling in the lantern's light.

By the time David and Snow returned to the clearing, giggling softly about something Emma didn't even want to question, the final embers had burned themselves out. Emma stirred the ashes with the end of her marshmallow skewer before holding her hand above the fire bed, feeling for heat. She felt none, so she got to her feet, gesturing for Henry to follow her lead.

"The fire's completely out," she said to her parents, holding the lantern up as she approached them. "Is there anything I can take to the truck?"

The grin on her mother's face plainly indicated that she was going to regret asking.

Everyone loaded their arms with as much equipment and camping paraphernalia as possible in an effort to get all of their stuff out of the clearing in this one last trip. They managed to do it, too, once again due to that innate stubbornness that ran through all of them. Once the truck was loaded, Snow, Henry, and Emma all piled into the cab while David settled behind the wheel.

"So," Henry asked as David turned the key in the ignition. "Who's going to teach me how to pitch a tent?"

"I think I'm going to volunteer your grandfather for that one," Snow chuckled, smiling innocently at her husband.

"Yeah," Emma quickly agreed, nodding as if that was the best plan she'd ever heard.

"Gee, thanks," David teased, taking his eyes off the road for the briefest of moments to wink at his wife and daughter. "Why do Henry and I get the dubious honor of pitching the tent?"

"We set up the grill," Snow reminded him.

"Yes, but we built the fire."

Henry and Emma exchanged an amused grin at the playful argument between husband and wife.

"We had enough tent-pitching in the Enchanted Forest."

"Actually," Emma broke in with a smirk, "we were more in the business of tent construction in the Enchanted Forest. It was either that or find a cave of some sort to hide out in for the night."

"Perhaps," David allowed, "but Emma, you're probably the only one of us who's ever pitched a modern tent."

"I hate to tell you, but I've never pitched a modern tent," she told him. "I've only been camping once, and I was seven, remember? We didn't pitch the tents. Kevin and Tim may have helped … they were older. Mr. and Mrs. Browne just charged Adam and me with keeping Natalie occupied and out of everyone's way."

"How old was Natalie?" Snow asked her, a gentle smile on her face. No matter how her daughter's time with this family ended, she could tell just by the look on Emma's face how much she had enjoyed being with them.

"Four." Emma returned Snow's smile before once again addressing her father. "David Nolan clearly liked the outdoors since most of this is his stuff. Can't you just reach back into your David Nolan Memory Rolodex and use them to pitch the tent?"

He chuckled at her choice of descriptive phrase. "Be that as it may, none of those memories are real. I didn't actually experience any of them. Twenty-eight years in a coma, remember?"

"False memories or not, you have them, and they're more than any of us have," Emma pointed out.

Henry giggled. "I think she's got you there, Gramps."

"Yes, I guess she does," David admitted with an amused smile. "So, what do you say, Sir Henry? Are you up for pitching a tent with your grandpa?"

"Absolutely," Henry grinned.

By the time David pulled into his spot in the apartment's parking lot, everyone had decided that Emma and Snow would unload the truck while he and Henry picked a spot and pitched the tent. The plan was to find an unobtrusive area of the grounds out of consideration for the neighbors. Although, Emma highly doubted anyone would say anything. The neighbors were all lovely people, not to mention that being both the royal family and the savior's family certainly had its perks.

Emma carried the now much lighter cooler upstairs while Snow brought up the grill. Once inside, they started to unpack the cooler and put away the uneaten food. David had been correct; there really weren't a lot of pickles left. If Emma had room in her stomach, she would have polished the rest of the jar off right then and there.

She was just turning around to put the graham crackers back in the cabinet when Snow slid the box out of her hand. "I'll finish up out here. Go on up and change. You look like you want to."

She _really_ did. It was late enough that her body was itching for sleep attire. "Thanks," she smiled.

When she was halfway up the stairs, Snow's voice stopped her and made her turn around. "You might want to bring the bug spray down with you. It'll be a long and uncomfortable night if the mosquitoes find us."

Emma wrinkled her nose. Four people in a tent, all covered with bug spray. _That_ was something she hadn't thought of until this very moment. "Oh, great. The whole tent is going to smell like bug spray all night long, isn't it?"

Snow laughed. "Yes. Better smelling like bug spray than being eaten alive, though." That, Emma had to admit, was a reasonable point. "Besides, this world's sprays don't smell all that horrible. You should have smelled the Enchanted Forest version."

A smirk curled on Emma's lips. "Something tells me that I'm glad I missed the Enchanted Forest bug spray. Although, you know what smell I do like that no one else does?"

"What's that?"

"Calamine lotion."

"You're right," Snow replied, eyebrows raised. "You don't hear of a lot of people enjoying that odor. Recognizing it, sure, but not liking it."

"Told you." She shrugged and started up the stairs but Snow once again called her name. "You know," she sighed as she turned around, "it's very hard to go upstairs and change when people keep stopping you to talk."

Snow gave her an apologetic smile. "I just wanted to thank you … for agreeing to this. It's been a really nice night."

Emma smiled back. "It really has been, hasn't it?"

After a beat of silence, Snow shooed Emma up the stairs. Finally able to make it up to her room without interruption, Emma realized that each member of her family had mentioned having a good time. None of it would have happened if not for Henry and her own inability to say no to his Puppy Dog Eyes.

Sometimes, she supposed, that inability to say no could lead to nice things. Not that she enjoyed camping in any way, shape, or form, but tonight _had_ been fun so far. And she was sure there was more fun to be had.


	10. Chapter 10

Emma anxiously shifted her weight from one foot to the other before peeking around the doorjamb. Thankfully, the coast was clear, so she made a mad dash down the two flights of stairs in the apartment building.

She was clad in yoga pants and a tank top with her flip-flops slapping her feet with every step she took. The last time time she'd headed outside in something even remotely resembling pajamas, she'd been seven years old and running around a campsite with four other kids.

_The things I do for my kid_, she thought, giving a slight, disbelieving shake of her head. Apparently those things included traipsing outside in her pajamas.

By the time she stepped outside with the can of bug spray her mother had mentioned at the ready, Henry and David had chosen the spot for the tent and were working in lantern light to clear the patch of land of sticks, stones, pine cones, and hickory nuts. Emma stood a small distance away, watching them work with a small smile on her face. Between their efforts and the yoga mat, no tiny objects were going to be jabbing her in the back tonight, that was for sure.

Henry eventually set his small rake aside, swiping his arm across his forehead as if all that activity had worked up a sweat. Then the funny part began: watching the two of them attempt to pitch the tent.

At first Emma couldn't figure out what the problem was, but after a moment, it hit her. Although the tent had never been used because David Nolan had never really gone camping, the instruction guide that was supposed to have come with the tent was missing. As such, poor David was left to rely solely on false, curse-given memories as to how all the hardware was supposed to fit together.

Lantern in hand, Emma strode over to the chosen campsite to put the two of them out of their misery. Intending to help or not, she couldn't resist a little good-natured ribbing as she slid a tent stake from Henry's hand. "Seriously? We give you two one job, and you can't manage to do it correctly?"

David started at the sound of her voice, fixing her with an expression so helpless that both she and Henry had to bite back laughter. "False memories do not make the best instruction booklet," he admitted somewhat sheepishly. "Plus, it's dark out. We should have pitched the tent first."

Since Emma had recently had plenty of experience setting up camp by nothing more than firelight, she simply smiled. "I'm gathering that. But since we didn't, how about we get all the pieces laid out and see what we can do, okay? I'm not sleeping out here with nothing over my head."

Under Emma's instruction, Henry set out the stakes and rods while David spread the tent out flat over their chosen area. After darting her gaze from the hardware to the tent and back again, Emma said, "Let's try staking it first. It might be easier to get the rods in place if the tent's anchored."

As they were driving the tent stakes into the ground with heavy rocks, Snow walked up to her family, dressed in her own sleep attire and clutching three of the sleeping bags. "I don't recall the original plan for the tent-pitching as being a family activity," she teased with a tender smile on her face.

"We don't have instructions," Henry informed her. His breathing was a little labored from the effort of pounding his stake into the ground.

"I see," Snow replied, swallowing a chuckle. "So you're all just playing it by ear?"

"Playing it by ear is the only option we've got at this point," Emma said, standing up straight to face her mother. "Want to play it by ear with us?"

A smile curled on Snow's lips. She took a brief moment to pretend to think it over before joining her family.

It took a little bit longer than it would have if they'd had the instructions, but the four of them did manage to get the tent upright. It ended up being a little lopsided but everyone agreed that the small amount of tilt was not worth taking everything apart in an effort to fix it.

After taking a moment to proudly survey their work, Snow headed back to the truck to retrieve the yoga mat for Emma and the final sleeping bag. Henry leaned against a nearby tree trunk, breathing heavily. "Pitching a tent is hard work!"

David and Emma shared a laugh. "You've got that right, kid," Emma smiled. "Although, you think that was hard? Try pitching a tent using nothing but tree branches and rocks while also hiding from ogres."

Henry's eyes widened in awe. "That sounds cool!"

"I think you and I disagree on the definition of cool," Emma replied with a gentle smile at her son, causing David to snort in amusement.

Before the two of them had a chance to get into a joking but no doubt impassioned argument over whether or not having to hide from ogres was cool, Snow returned with the sleeping bag and yoga mat. "All right," she said, handing both items to Emma. "First things first: bug spray for everyone. I want a mosquito-free bubble surrounding us. Then, we can decide on sleeping arrangements."

Emma, who'd already sprayed every inch of her exposed skin when she first stepped outside, narrowed her eyes at the tent in thought. David had been correct earlier; the tent was in fact a decent size. Even still, the four of them were going to be packed pretty tightly together, which meant she was going to have at least one member of her family in her personal space all night long.

"I want a wall," Henry spoke up as he passed the can of bug spray to his grandfather.

Emma wrinkled her nose. Her parents were obviously going to want to sleep next to each other, so unless she wanted to be on the opposite side of the tent as Henry – which she didn't – the fact that he wanted a wall of the tent left her somewhere in the middle.

So that made_ two_ members of her family in her personal space all night long.

Although, there was a small silver lining. Henry wanting a wall meant that he would probably have to climb over Emma to get out of the tent, which also meant that someone would have to climb over her to get in. Not that she was naming names or anything and not that she thought Regina would attempt any kind of attack when all four of them were together, but a little bit of defense went a long way. "Okay, you can have a wall," she agreed, making Henry grin.

Everyone squeezed inside the tent to set up their sleeping bags, and Emma noticed with a quiet whimper of claustrophobia that there was just enough room for all four of them to lie side by side. She ended up sandwiched between her son and her mother, which was, in all honesty, how she had figured the arrangements would work out the second Henry said he wanted a wall. Snow met her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

Emma smiled back and unrolled her sleeping bag on top of the already unrolled yoga mat. Henry scoffed and shook his head at her insistence on using the yoga mat, but he couldn't quite hide his amused smile.

After a beat of silence, Henry plopped down on top of his sleeping bag and teasingly grinned up at his grandmother. "Be careful, Gramma. Mom's a bed hog."

"I am not," Emma replied with a roll of her eyes.

Snow winked at her grandson and said, "Oh, I know all about that, believe you me."

Emma's jaw dropped open in indignation as she placed her hands on her hips. "I am not!"

David, who had been watching the conversation with an amused grin, tried and failed to swallow a snicker.

"I'm sorry, but you are," Snow insisted, giving her daughter an apologetic smile. "I lost count of the number of times I woke up in the Forest due to a certain someone's knees digging into my back."

Emma felt the heat rushing up her cheeks, and she thanked her lucky stars that it was dark enough in the tent that no one could see her blushing. Unable to think of anything to say to defend herself – because she clearly had no way of knowing what she really did when she slept – she instead decided to turn the teasing conversation back on her accuser. "Yeah, well, I remember waking up more than a few times with a certain someone'shand in my face."

David burst out laughing. "Oh, this is going to be a really fun night … and by fun, I of course mean hilarious. You're _both_ bed hogs."

Even in the semi-light of the lanterns, Snow's fair skin made it quite obvious when _she_ was blushing. Henry's muffled giggle made the adults laugh, David joining his grandson in actual amusement while Snow and Emma released their embarrassed tension in relief.

All four of them settled down on top of their sleeping bags, mostly to make sure that everyone had enough room. A half-smile tugged at Emma's lips as her eyes drifted closed. She was pleased to note that the yoga mat did provide a decent bit of padding. The ground was still hard, of course, but she was a good deal more comfortable here in the tent that she had been on any given night in the Enchanted Forest. The pillow helped, too. Actual pillows weren't a thing during their adventure in the Forest. She'd mostly used her jacket, which, though better than nothing, had been nowhere near a close substitute.

"So now what?" Henry asked. He sat up and, with a little frown of consternation as he spotted Emma's closed eyes, poked his finger into her arm.

Emma's eyes snapped open as her hand flew to the now sore spot on her arm where Henry had poked. "I don't know," she shrugged, swiping a hand over her eyes as she pushed herself up on one elbow. "What do you want to do?"

She prayed he wouldn't suggest any kind of even mildly strenuous activity. After a day filled with two-and-a-half-mile hikes, mountains of food, and pitching tents, she was getting _tired_.

What he suggested wasn't a strenuous activity but it caused Emma to groan nonetheless. "We could tell more scary stories."

"Kid, I hate to tell you, but the old 'woman wears a black ribbon around her neck so her head won't fall off' story stopped being scary about five decades ago," she said, making her parents chuckle.

"Oh, yeah?" Henry asked teasingly. "You think you can do better than that?"

"Maybe not much better, but yeah, probably."

"You are aware that you have to tell us a scary story now, right?" David asked, raising his eyebrows while giving his daughter a grin. "I mean, you did just pick up the gauntlet that Henry threw down."

Aw, crap, she had, hadn't she? The thing was, Emma didn't really do stories. Not on her own. Spinning yarns had never been a forte of hers, which struck her as more than a little ironic, considering who her parents really were. She glanced over at her mother, who nodded almost apologetically at her.

Damn it. She was going to have to come up with something on the fly, wasn't she?

Then something surfaced from her memory banks, a ghost story Kevin Browne had told the three older kids that first night, after the elder Brownes had called for lights out and after Natalie had fallen asleep. Mostly, Emma remembered how it had scared the crap out of her little seven-year-old self. She ran the details over in her head, and though it wasn't as scary to her now as it had been back then, she remembered enough of it that she could comfortably repeat it to her family.

_Eh, what the hell? _she asked herself. Even if it ended up coming across as kind of lame, it would still be better than the stories that had been told around campfires for so long that they were groan-inducing instead of scary.

"All right," she said with a grin, repositioning herself on her sleeping bag and setting her lantern down in front of her. Henry grinned back as he moved to sit cross-legged next to her. Snow and David met each other's eyes, smiled, and closed ranks, creating a circle. Emma raised her eyebrows almost devilishly and smirked at her family members. "It's scary story time."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** It's scary story time! Emma's story here comes from a dream I had once (which was scary at the time but made me think "that would make an AWESOME story!" once I got a bit of distance from it) that I tweaked a bit to account for the gaps in dream logic. As far as I know, it's not a book or a movie plot, so if I did steal it from somewhere, it's purely accidental. Also, because an author's note from me isn't really complete without it: you guys rock. :)

* * *

Apparently, scary stories weren't worth doing to Henry unless they were done properly. "Everyone's lanterns off!" he instructed, a grin lighting his face as he switched off his own lantern. "Except you, Mom. Yours has to stay on."

Emma playfully raised her hands in surrender as Snow and David turned off their lanterns. With the only illumination now coming from Emma's lantern, shadows filled the corners and edges of the tent. A small breeze had kicked up outside, whistling through the leaves of the trees overhead. Emma had to admit, it was an almost perfect scary story atmosphere.

After taking a brief moment to once again run the details of Kevin's story through her head, she looked up at her family. "Some towns," she said, meeting first her father's eyes, then her mother's followed by her son's, "are big. Not quite big enough to be called cities, but big enough to get lost in. Some towns, like this one, are small. And some are smaller still, but what those towns lack in size, they tend to make up for in history ... especially in this area in the country. If you look hard enough, you can find history everywhere. The thing to remember is that history is not always pleasant."

A little smile curled on her lips when she noticed Henry staring at her in rapt attention. Even her parents appeared mesmerized. Maybe she wasn't so bad at the story-telling thing after all. The details were Kevin's, of course, but the words were hers.

"The thing with history – both pleasant and unpleasant – is that it's all around you," she continued, her voice low. "It's everywhere you turn … it's in old buildings, it's in the spot marked with a plaque because something exciting happened there a hundred years ago. And sometimes, it's buried right under your nose. After all, isn't finding buried treasure what every kid digging in his back yard dreams of? What is buried treasure but something someone in the past left behind for the people in the present to find? Sometimes, though, buried treasure was never meant to be found. Just ask twelve-year-old Sarah. The buried treasure she dug up in her back yard was a simple but beautiful diamond ring."

When David gasped, Emma smiled to herself. Her family was eating this _up_. "Sarah didn't show her mother the ring, which was probably her first mistake. Slipping it on her finger was definitely a mistake. At the precise moment she put it on, she caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eyes. You know, that quick moment when you think you see someone standing just outside your line of sight. That was what Sarah thought she saw ... just a tiny inkling of someone in her peripheral vision. When she looked more closely, though, there was no one there. She instantly relaxed, cursing her overactive imagination. She was so relaxed that she forgot all about it until that night when the dreams came."

"What were the dreams about?" Henry breathed.

Emma again had to swallow a grin. It wouldn't do to start chuckling during the telling of a scary story. "Nothing that made any real sense to Sarah, but they still left her frightened. Every time she dreamed, it would be the same, and every time she dreamed, she would wake up crying. She saw a man and a woman kissing and felt … betrayed. After a moment, the betrayal faded and she felt devastated and then finally angry. She yelled at the man, asking him how he could do such a thing to her, and he yelled back. She always woke up before the fight could escalate, though. It was after she'd had the dream for the third time that she saw the woman standing at the foot of her bed."

A chill must have made its way down Snow's spine because she shivered.

"The woman had dripping wet hair and soaking wet clothes. She stood stock-still, staring at Sarah through black, hollow eyes. She was rubbing the ring finger of her own left hand but she didn't say a word. Just stared. It took Sarah a moment to find her voice but when she did, she screamed. By the time her mother ran into the room and snapped on the light, the woman had vanished. It was just a bad dream, her mother tried to tell her. If there really had been a woman with wet clothes in the room, she said, there would be a puddle on the floor. But Sarah knew she'd been awake, and she knew what she'd seen."

She noticed for the first time that Henry had bunched his sleeping bag in his fist. She smiled to herself, remembering how she always needed something to squeeze while watching scary movies at Henry's age. "The woman began to appear to Sarah everywhere she went. She followed her during the day and stood in front of her bed at night. Sarah hadn't realized that something could be so threatening just by being there before her encounters with this woman. The woman never said a word. She just stood there, staring and rubbing her ring finger."

From the look on David's face, he had figured out where the story was headed. That fact wasn't all that surprising to Emma, considering it had been made up by a ten-year-old boy. Besides, the plot wasn't the point; the creepiness was. Regardless, her father appeared to enjoying it just as much as his wife and grandson. Giving a little smile while still keeping her voice low, Emma continued. "Now, Sarah was a smart girl. Obviously, the ring she'd found and the woman were connected. She tried to rebury it in the back yard, returning it where she'd found it, but still, the woman came. By the third night, Sarah was so tired and on edge that she'd had enough. She yelled, 'What do you want?!' 'You,' was the woman's raspy reply."

Henry shivered just as Snow had earlier. On the one hand, Emma wanted to grin in accomplishment; the story was working! On the other hand, she was starting to scare the crap out of her eleven-year-old son. The ending of Kevin's story was a dark one but with a couple of tweaks …

She took a brief moment to think it over and nodded to herself. The story had accomplished its purpose already; there was no use adding insult to injury.

"Sarah was scared, of course," she said, raising her voice just a little, "but she was also determined. No ghost was going to take her anywhere, not if she had anything to say about it. By the next day, she'd come up with a plan. She went to the town library to do a little bit of digging into the history of her house. It took her a while but she eventually came up with her ghost: a young woman who had tragically drowned a few days after breaking off her engagement. She had found her fiancé with another woman. Sarah had a name now: Hannah Kensington. The town was so small there was only one cemetery, so off she went to look for Hannah's grave. When she found it, she buried the ring a few inches down in the grass in front of the headstone. It was the closest she could come to returning the ring Hannah must have buried in the yard in anger. She just had to hope it would be enough to satisfy Hannah.  
And it must have been, because Sarah never saw the ghost again."

Everyone in the tent let out a collective breath of relief, making Emma glad she'd changed the ending. Something told her two fairy tale characters and an idealistic little boy would not have welcomed the ghost winning in the end. "That story?" Henry said breathlessly. "Was _awesome_! Did you make that up?

Emma finally allowed her proud grin to show. "I wish I could take credit for it, but I can't. Kevin Browne told us that story after lights out. It scared the crap out of all of us."

"Well, you certainly have a way with story-telling, even if the plot isn't yours," Snow said, giving her daughter a gentle smile.

Emma returned her mother's smile, which then grew into an amused smirk when Henry excitedly asked, "Do you know any more?"

"Sorry, kid," she replied with a shake of her head. "One scary story per camping trip is my limit."

"Aw, man!" Henry cried, making everyone else chuckle.

David turned on his and Snow's lanterns, illuminating the tent and casting out the shadows. "I hereby proclaim scary story time officially over."

"And with that, I think it's time you two change into your pajamas," Emma reminded both her son and her father. "If we have to be out here in our PJs, so do you."

Henry wrinkled his nose, clearly equating the idea of pajamas with bedtime. David must have interpreted his expression the same way, because he said, "She's right, Henry. We're not going to want to end up sleeping in our clothes. We could play a couple of card games before lights out, though, if you want."

At that, Henry's eyes lit up. "I can get my deck when I go upstairs to change! What game should we play?"

"You choose," Emma told him, readying herself for either Go Fish or War. She had tried to teach him how to play Hearts once, just for something different, but she found that she didn't remember enough of the rules to properly teach him. One of the dangers of trying to translate a game she'd mostly learned on the computer into actual practice, she supposed.

"Okay." He grinned as he crawled past her to the door of the tent.

"Hang on. You're not going to tell me what game you're going to pick?"

"It's a surprise!" With that, he slipped through the other flap, leaving David to follow behind him.

Somehow, Emma managed to restrain herself from hollering after them for David not to let Henry out of his sight. She released a heavy breath as she lay down on her back, interlacing her fingers behind her head.

A moment later, her mother joined her, looking up at the slightly lopsided roof of the tent. "Are you all right?"

"Yep," Emma replied. She turned her head to smile wryly at her mother. "Just reserving my energy for War or Go Fish."

Snow smiled back. "I could teach him Old Maid."

Teaching Henry a new game was not a bad idea at all. The kid needed his card game repertoire widened a little bit. "Okay. Just, you know, keep in mind that you might have to teach me, too. At the very least, you'll have to refresh my memory."

"I can do that," Snow said, smiling tenderly.

Here again was something Emma had missed out on … having her parents around to teach her card games. Hell, having her parents teach her things, period. The few card games she knew, she'd learned from various foster siblings or directors of group homes.

As if she could somehow read Emma's mind, Snow said, "You know I would give anything to have been able to do this with you when you were Henry's age, don't you?"

Emma just nodded, not trusting herself to talk at the moment.

Thankfully, Snow seemed to realize that Emma wasn't in the right frame of mind for emotional conversation. Instead, she smiled, her eyes brightening. "Well, it appears as if I'll have two students again in a few minutes."

Appreciative of her mother's effort to get the conversation back on a light track, Emma grinned back. "Just like old times."


	12. Chapter 12

Snow pulled a queen out of Henry's deck of cards, shuffled them, and dealt them out while explaining the rules of Old Maid. As she did so, a flash of long-forgotten memory hit Emma square in the face: an older girl taking a worn deck of cards from a shelving unit piled high with equally worn games and jigsaw puzzles with some of their pieces missing. Emma had no idea how old she was in the memory, nor did she recall the girl's name. All she knew for certain was that was the day she'd learned how to play War.

No parents taught her how to play childhood games. No older siblings or cousins or any other family members. No, Emma had been taught to play War by a similarly parentless little girl, who'd been taught herself by another foster kid. A little girl whose only connection to Emma was that they'd lived in the same group home and a little girl whose name Emma couldn't even remember.

"Is this sounding at all familiar to you, Emma?"

Her mother's soft voice pulled Emma from the memory and back to the present. She shook her head. Aside from the name, Old Maid did not sound familiar to her at all.

An expression that was equal parts sadness and pleasure lit Snow's eyes. It seemed there were certain things from Emma's childhood that Snow might be able to reclaim after all.

Three games of Old Maid later, Henry's eyelids were starting to droop. Truth be told, so were Emma's. David, who'd ended up with the single, unmatched queen this time, collected the cards and smiled gently at his tired family. "I think it's time for lights out."

That was totally fine with Emma, who nodded gratefully at her father's suggestion. Henry, on the other hand, blinked hard and rubbed his eyes before begging, "Can't we stay up just a little bit longer? Please?"

"I'm sure we'll talk for a little while after we turn the lanterns off," Emma assured him. She just hoped she could stay awake long enough for the conversation. She had skated past tired a while ago and was now well on her way to exhausted. She hadn't realized until this very moment how _draining_ the day had been, physically as well as emotionally.

"Okay." Henry's word may have indicated agreement but his tone made his disappointment crystal clear.

Snow gave him a reassuring smile as she asked, "Does anyone need to go upstairs for anything? Speak now or forever hold your peace." Everyone held their peace, prompting Snow to remind them – mostly Henry but she said it to everyone – of the rule for having to run upstairs in the middle of the night: no one goes up alone.

One by one, the family got themselves settled and switched off their lanterns. The illumination in the tent dimmed little by little until all four of them were left in darkness.

Despite the added cushioning of the yoga mat, Emma still had to move around to find a comfortable position. She noted with some amusement that Henry was fidgeting just as much as she was. However, she hadn't realized just how much they were squirming until David jokingly asked, "You two have ants in your pants?"

"Sorry," Henry spoke up sheepishly. He stopped tossing, settling down on his back.

Emma, on the other hand, groaned. "Great. Now I'm going to be paranoid that ants or other little creepy-crawlies will be invading my sleeping bag at some point tonight. Thanks so much for that."

"You're quite welcome," David chuckled.

After one final squirm, Emma settled into a comfortable position curled up on her side. Soft voices filled the tent as her parents and son continued to talk. Henry was leading the discussion, rambling about how he'd never seen the ants go marching one by one or two by two like in the song. Ants were always in a clump every time he saw a group of them, but did anyone think they could be trained to march one by one?

Despite Emma's best efforts to keep her mind focused on the conversation, her eyes fluttered closed in less than a minute.

The next thing she knew, she was alone. She had been wandering through the woods by herself for what felt like forever. She knew she'd been out here a while because it was dark now and it hadn't been dark when he left her.

She was getting hungry, really hungry. The Brownes had said everyone could have a snack when they got back to their campsite after the hike. Emma had missed the snack _and_ she'd missed dinner, and now she was hungry and thirsty and so _tired_ from all the walking she'd been doing to try to find her way back to them.

Worse than being hungry and worse than being in the dark was being so alone. She was lost. She was most definitely lost but how come no one had found her yet? They had to be looking for her … right? If they were looking for her, why hadn't they found her? She didn't think she and Tim had gone _that_ far off the path.

At first, when it was still light out, being lost wasn't so bad. It was scary, of course, because she didn't like being out here all by herself but it wasn't _that_ bad. Now, though, there were noises in the woods, noises she didn't like. Noises that scared her. The rustling of things she couldn't see moving through the bushes, crunching through the dead leaves on the ground. The calls of birds and the chattering of the animals that came out at night.

Emma was in _their _world now.

She knew she should find somewhere to hide for the night but she didn't want to. Because if she hid, no one would be able to find her, and she wanted them to be able to find her. She didn't want to be here all alone anymore. She wanted Mr. Browne. She wanted Mrs. Browne or Adam or Natalie or Kevin. She even wanted Tim, even though he was the one who'd left her here in the first place. But most of all, she wanted her real mommy and daddy. Her real mommy and daddy had left her alone, too, but she didn't care. She wanted them more than anything else in the whole wide world.

Before she knew it, she was crying. She didn't care _who_ found her anymore; she just wanted _someone _to find her.

"Emma."

She gasped, looking up at the sound of the voice. There was no one. She started crying harder. The voice must have been her imagination playing a mean trick on her.

"_Emma._"

There it was again, more insistent now, but she still didn't see anyone. She didn't understand. It sounded like someone had found her, but where were they? How come she couldn't see them?

"Emma!"

Her eyes snapped open as she awoke with a gasp.

"It's all right," Snow said, her voice soft and tender as she withdrew her hand from her daughter's shoulder. "It was just a dream."

A dream? It hadn't been a dream … not really. Was it a dream when the events of the dream were based in reality? Was that still considered a dream or was it a memory?

Emma sat up, breathing heavily and trying to push the feelings of being lost and scared and alone out of her mind. Her eyes darted around the tent as she tried to get her bearings. There was Snow, sitting next to her and looking at her through concerned eyes. It wasn't as dark in the tent as Emma remembered, and it took her a moment to notice that the lantern at Snow's side was on. She must have turned it on before pulling Emma from the dream.

Henry and David were both sound asleep, which left Emma even more disoriented. What time was it? The last thing she remembered was listening to everyone talk about the ants marching one by one.

"It's all right, Emma," Snow repeated, gently taking her daughter's hands in an effort to ground her.

The action worked. Emma's breathing slowly returned to normal. The intensity of the emotions of the nightmare faded in the light of the lantern, and the feeling of her mother's hands around her own reminded her that she wasn't alone.

"Good girl," Snow murmured when Emma finally calmed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Emma shook her head and gave a little shrug. "Nothing to talk about."

There was a beat of silence before Snow said, "That wasn't nothing. You were whimpering and muttering that you were sorry."

Just like before, another flash of long-forgotten memory hit her: a little seven-year-old girl with tangled blond curls and dirty cheeks and hands sitting on the cold hard forest floor with her arms wrapped around her legs, crying into her knees. Apologizing to no one and to everyone, to nothing and to everything, thinking that if she just said she was sorry, someone would come back for her.

"I was alone in the woods," she murmured, keeping her gaze averted from her mother's. "I just wanted someone to find me."

"Oh, sweetie," Snow whispered. Emma flinched at the pet name but relaxed when Snow began rubbing small circles on her back. "I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have pushed you to agree to this if I thought it would give you nightmares."

"I didn't know it would give me nightmares," Emma admitted, finally meeting her mother's eyes. "It didn't give me nightmares in the Enchanted Forest." Maybe because she'd had more pressing things on her mind in the Enchanted Forest. She ran her hand over her face and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "I feel absolutely ridiculous."

"There's no reason to feel ridiculous, Emma. I can't even imagine how awful those thirty-two hours had to have been for you."

She shrugged uncomfortably but before she could say another word, more soft whimpering filled the tent. Emma turned her head towards the sound and found Henry squirming in his sleeping bag, eyes squeezed shut and nose scrunched.

_Funny how quickly roles reverse_, Emma thought as she leaned over and lightly gripped her son's shoulder to shake him awake, just like Snow had done for her mere moments ago. "Henry. Henry, wake up."

He shot upright, gasping, his frantic eyes searching the tent. The second his gaze locked on Emma's, he launched himself at her, throwing his arms around her tightly.

He was shaking. "Hey, it's all right," she murmured, returning his embrace and following her mother's lead of rubbing circles over the boy's back. "It was just a dream. You're safe now."

"It felt so real!" he cried, his voice trembling. "A woman with wet hair kept chasing me through my mom's house."

Emma winced, silently kicking herself. Kevin's story had apparently worked a bit too well. "Oh, kid, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that story."

"It's okay." He sniffled, pulled out of her embrace, and gave her a sheepish smile. "I asked you for the story, remember?"

"What's with all the activity?" David grumbled from the far side of the tent. He groaned, turning onto his back and flinging his arm across his eyes to block out the dim light of Snow's lantern. "It's the middle of the night."

"Two generations of nightmares," Snow whispered teasingly. At her words, David removed his arm and sat up, concern knotting his brow.

_Oh, wonderful_, Emma thought. _Now the whole damn tent is awake_. "And two generations of soothing those nightmares," she quipped. "Sorry for waking everyone up."

"It's not at all a problem, Emma," her father assured her, his concern fading just a tad at her joke. "Just as long as everyone is all right."

"We are now." After sparing a quick, reassuring smile at her father, she turned back to her son. "What do you say, kid? You think you're ready to try going back to sleep?"

Henry inhaled deeply and held the breath a long beat. "I am if you are."

She gave him a little smile of comfort before settling back down in her sleeping bag, answering him without words. Snow watched her two nightmare sufferers with a careful eye, only switching off the lantern after they'd both settled down and closed their eyes.

Just as Emma was drifting off, she felt Henry latch onto her hand and squeeze. She didn't know if he knew she was still awake, but she squeezed back anyway to let him know she was there if he needed her.

She forced herself to stay awake until Henry's grip around her hand relaxed. Only then did she allow the strong tug of sleep to pull her back under.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Another one that'll rot your teeth if you let it. I'm still not sorry. ;)

* * *

The bright morning sun shone down on the red nylon of the tent in just the right way for red-tinged light to play upon Snow's face and gently pull her from her slumber. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she stretched her arms and legs and tried to turn over onto her back. "Tried" being the operative term, because as the veil of sleep slowly lifted, she discovered that her back was pressed up against her husband's torso. Apparently she'd cuddled up to him during the night.

Not that Charming seemed to mind; at some point, he'd draped his arm over her side with his hand dangling in front of her stomach, hugging her to him. His arm tightened around her at her movement, telling her that he was awake. She rested her elbow on top of his and lazily traced soft lines up and down his forearm with her index finger.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," his soft voice whispered into her ear.

A smile curled onto her lips as she turned her head to meet her husband's gaze. From the amount of clarity in his eyes, she gathered he'd been awake for a while. "Good morning."

"Morning," he replied just as softly. After a beat, he leaned down for a kiss.

She pressed her lips back against his, swiftly getting lost in the togetherness and the stillness of the early morning. Just her and Charming …

Snow pulled away with a soft gasp. It _wasn't_ just her and Charming. Emma and Henry were there, too, squeezed into the tent with them. "It's all right," David whispered, chuckling quietly. "The kids are still asleep."

She let out a breath of relief, if only because daughter and grandson catching her making out with her husband would have been rather embarrassing. It wouldn't have been quite as embarrassing as the day the two of them came home early with the fixings for the tacos, though. "Speaking of," he said, nudging her to recapture her attention, "do you remember how I mentioned that you were a bed hog?"

"I do," she teasingly replied, slightly sleepy eyes still focused on his face.

"Well, I think our daughter has you beat."

Snow's brow knit in confusion but when she turned her head, she understood not only David's statement but also the reason she'd woken so tightly nestled against him. Emma was lying on her side facing them but she'd vacated her own sleeping spot and had taken over half of Snow's pillow.

Grinning softly, Snow reached out to tuck the curls that had fallen across Emma's face during the night behind her ear. "She used to do the same thing in the Forest," she murmured to her husband as she gently drew her hand back. "I would wake in the morning to find her practically on top of me."

"I'm sure she was not at all embarrassed by that," he snickered.

"She never found out," Snow told him, a smile tugging at her lips at both the memory and her soundly sleeping daughter. "I always scooted away when she started to stir."

"Still, I bet you enjoyed every second before you had to move away."

"Oh, absolutely."

The two of them lay together for a long moment, watching over their slumbering family and just enjoying each other's company. Eventually, David unraveled himself from his wife's grip and sat up, pushing the sleeping bag off his legs. "Where are you going?" Snow asked, sitting up herself.

"I'm going to run out get some doughnuts. I figured camping is a good enough excuse for a not-so-healthy breakfast. Any requests?"

"Nothing specific for me, but Henry likes cinnamon and Emma will probably have your head if you forget her bear claw."

"Please," he chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet. "As if I would even entertain the notion of not getting Emma a bear claw."

The joke made her smile. Smiling back at her, David slipped out of the tent with the promise of coming right back with breakfast for everyone. Left alone with her sleeping family and her thoughts, Snow lay back down on the empty half of her pillow.

She loved that David had instinctively known how much she'd enjoyed being so close to Emma in the Enchanted Forest. He obviously felt the unfairness of it all, too, just as much as she did. They had never had the chance to share lazy mornings with their daughter when she was young. They'd never had the chance to have a tiny Emma crawl under the covers of their bed and snuggle with them before everyone started the day. The togetherness and closeness parents share with their young children … they'd missed out on all of it. Of course Snow would try to reclaim as much of the time she'd missed in any way she could.

She was drawn from her reverie when Emma curled in on herself further in her sleep, her head lightly resting on Snow's shoulder. It took all of Snow's willpower to suppress the urge to gently play with Emma's curls. If her daughter woke now, embarrassment probably wouldn't even begin to cover it.

Snow lay quietly, enjoying the stillness of the morning, until she heard Henry stirring on the other side of the tent. Taking care not to wake Emma with her movement, Snow pushed herself up on one elbow to check on her grandson. He was rubbing his eyes, more awake than asleep. She gave a half-smile, remaining quiet until Henry sat up and glanced to his side to see who else was awake. "Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning," he whispered back sleepily. It took him a moment to notice his mother's position but once he did, he grinned at his grandmother. "I told you she was a bed hog."

"That you did," she said, smiling back at him.

Suddenly hot from the thick sleeping bag, Henry climbed out from under the covers. It was only then that he seemed to notice someone was missing. "Where's Gramps?"

"He's out getting some doughnuts for breakfast."

The boy's eyes lit up, which made Snow grin. Times like this, there could be no doubt at all that Henry was Emma's son; the two of them certainly loved their meals. "Is he getting me a cinnamon one?"

Snow chuckled. "Now, do you really think either of us would buy doughnuts without getting you cinnamon?"

The conversation must have disturbed Emma because she moaned softly and turned onto her other side, reclaiming her own pillow in the process. Snow and Henry froze and held their breath but when Emma simply settled back into sleep, they shared a relieved a quiet but relieved chuckle. Still, Snow guessed from the frequency of Emma's movements that she would be awake by the time Charming returned with the doughnuts.

Henry darted his gaze between his grandmother and mother, clearly trying to determine something. After a brief moment of waffling, he very carefully crawled around his mother's feet to join his grandmother on her sleeping bag. At least this way, the two of them could talk without bothering Emma.

Snow smiled as she reached out to smooth down a lock of his hair that was sticking up. "How did you sleep? You didn't have any more bad dreams, did you?"

"Nope," Henry said with a little shake of his head. "Just that one."

"I'm glad."

"Me, too," he agreed with a sage nod, making Snow laugh. "How about you? Did you sleep well?"

"I did indeed." She'd spent the night surrounded by her family, after a day of family fun. Despite being woken up in the middle of the night by Emma's nightmare and then staying awake until she was sure both Emma and Henry had fallen back to sleep, she'd slept extremely well the previous night.

Henry smiled at her but before he could say another word, his stomach rumbled audibly. Both Henry and Snow giggled. "Do you know when Gramps will be back with breakfast?" he asked somewhat sheepishly.

"Any minute now," she assured him. "He left about ten minutes before you woke up."

"Did someone say breakfast?" a muffled voice asked from beside them.

Snow turned her head to find Emma turning onto her stomach. She tucked her hands under the pillow and squeezed her eyes closed as if fighting being awake. "David's going to bring us back some doughnuts," Snow told her softly.

"Mmm, doughnuts. I hope he remembers my bear claw."

_Like son, like mother_, Snow thought with an indulgent smile. "Not that he would forget your bear claw anyway, but I did remind him before he left."

A pleased smile tugged at the corners of Emma's mouth. "Thanks. Bear claws are the best."

"Yes, darling," Snow laughingly replied. If her daughter had been more awake, she would have reached over and teasingly patted her knee.

Emma playfully made a face at her mother before rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Does anyone know what time it is?" she asked, squinting against the morning light.

"No, but I can find out!" Henry scrambled across the tent and dug into backpack. After a moment, he pulled out a watch Snow didn't even know he owned and glanced down at the digital face. "It's 7:53. No, wait! 7:54 now."

"Seriously?" Emma groaned, lying back down and yanking the sleeping bag over her head. "It's not even eight yet? It's Saturday! Why am I awake before eight on a Saturday?"

"It might as well be eight," Snow replied, chuckling at her daughter's display.

Emma simply grunted in response, which made Henry giggle. As he watched his mother fidget under the sleeping bag in an effort to make herself comfortable enough to go back to sleep, his eyes suddenly lit up.

Oh, Snow knew that look. That look could only mean one thing: the boy had mischief on his mind.

Her intuition was proven correct when he met her eyes, brows raised in silent question. She didn't know exactly what he wanted to do but she had a general idea. _Time for a quick weighing of pros and cons_, she thought.

Pro: it was time for Emma to get up anyway, what with Charming coming back with breakfast soon. Con: Emma might get upset (but even that wasn't guaranteed, so maybe she should count that as half a con). Pro: it would be funny. Con … she couldn't think of another one.

With a little mischievous grin of her own, she nodded at her grandson.

_Thank you_, Henry mouthed before taking a moment to prepare himself. Then, with a deep breath, he whipped the sleeping bag off his mother's face.

She cried out in surprise, grabbing blindly for the heavy covers he'd already pulled out of her reach.

"Come on, Mom," he said, latching onto her flailing hand and tugging. "It's time to get up!"

"Ugh! I give! I'm up." She yanked her hand out of her son's grasp and sat up, decidedly not pleased with this turn of events. "Are you happy now?"

"Uh huh," he giggled. "Very happy."

Snow had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the annoyed expression on her poor daughter's face. "At least you'll get a bear claw soon," she reminded her.

"A bear claw is pretty much the only reason to get up before eight on a Saturday," Emma allowed. She stretched her arms and legs in an effort to wake herself up a little bit. After a brief glance around the tent, she playfully nudged her son. "I couldn't help but notice that I woke up in my own spot. See? Looks like I'm not a bed hog after all."

Henry and Snow shared an amused grin but Snow surreptitiously shook her head at her grandson in an effort to keep him quiet. He must have understood because he simply shrugged innocently at his mother, a little smile on his lips.

What Emma didn't know, Snow had decided, wouldn't hurt her.


	14. Chapter 14

It took a few minutes for Emma to realize how hungry she was. Maybe she would have to another doughnut on top of her bear claw because damn, she was so hungry her stomach _hurt_. Which didn't make any kind of sense to her because she'd eaten a lot more at dinner than normal and she'd had s'mores and marshmallows for dessert. Eh, whatever. All the more reason to chow down on pastries when her father returned.

Speaking of, where the hell was her father? How long did it take to pick up a dozen doughnuts? She'd already asked Henry twice what time it was, once when she first woke up and then again when she realized she was hungry. She'd started to ask a third time, which made Snow teasingly interrupt her with, "Three minutes after the last time you asked."

Then, after making sure neither her grandson nor her daughter would mind, Snow had headed upstairs to retrieve something from the apartment. Now Emma and Henry sat alone in the tent, waiting for both Snow White and Prince Charming to return.

Just as Emma was about to only half-jokingly suggest sending out a search party for her wayward father, David ducked back into the tent with a box of pastries in hand. When he spotted two sets of eyes lighting up at his arrival, he cracked up laughing. "If I'd known this was all it would take to excite you two, I would have bought doughnuts days ago."

Emma ducked her head sheepishly. The fact that her reaction to doughnuts for breakfast was the same as her eleven-year-old son's was a little embarrassing but damn it, she was flippin' _starving._ Besides, bear claws were delicious. Forgive her for being a little excited.

Henry, it appeared, had no shame. With a wide grin, he tore into the box, snagging his cinnamon doughnut along with a chocolate frosted. He glanced at Emma out of the corner of his eye and started to reach for her bear claw.

"Back off the bear claw if you want to keep your fingers, kid," Emma warned.

David snickered, both at Henry's little joke and Emma's reaction to it. His grin growing wider, Henry withdrew his hand from the box and raised it in surrender. "I wasn't really going to take it. I just wanted to see what you'd do," he said, settling back down on his sleeping bag to eat.

Snow returned a moment later, slipping back into the tent with a bag filled with paper plates and plastic cups in one hand and the almost full gallon of milk that had previously resided in their refrigerator in the other. Emma hid a smile. Since her family wasn't having the healthiest food for breakfast, Snow was apparently trying to force some healthy drink into them. She handed the first plate to Henry, a few seconds too late to keep him from trailing cinnamon-laced powdered sugar across the tent.

When Snow handed Emma a plate, she took it and dove into the box for her bear claw, lest someone else try to take it from her. Snow raised her eyebrows at her daughter but David gave her an amused shake of his head, silently telling her not to worry about it. As soon as Emma had moved away from the box, he reached in for a Boston cream, Snow chose a glazed, and soon, everyone was sitting quietly, enjoying their breakfast.

"What are we going to do after we eat?" Henry asked after he'd swallowed his last mouthful of chocolate frosted doughnut. Emma noted with amusement that he had saved the cinnamon one for last.

"We still have to clean up in here and take the tent down," Emma reminded him. "Not to mention get all the camping stuff put away." She and Snow hadn't done a careful job putting things away the previous night. They'd emptied out the cooler, but they'd left everything else piled up in the living area.

Henry wrinkled his nose, clearly displeased with the notion of more work. "I meant fun stuff. What fun things are we going to do?"

"There is work to be done before fun can be had, my boy," David spoke up, pitching his voice like a burly lumberjack.

Emma and Snow shared an indulgent roll of their eyes at David's teasing tone of voice while Henry pouted. "I don't want to pack up. That means back yard camping is really over."

And there it was, that disappointment in her son's voice that tore into Emma's heart every time she heard it. Sometimes she believed that if she'd had the means to raise Henry from birth, she probably would have ended up spoiling him rotten.

Then something else came to her, something she and one of the little boys in one of her group homes used to do. "We do need to get the tent off the grounds because it's not really our yard," she reminded him. "So how about after we take down the tent and put the rest of the gear away, we unroll our sleeping bags on the floor in the living room? That way we can still pretend we're camping but we won't be in anyone else's way."

The wide smile on Henry's face provided all the confirmation she needed: the kid loved the idea. A glance over at her parents told her that her plan was perfectly fine with them as well.

Pretending to camp out by sleeping on the floor was something she'd loved when she was little. She and … crap, she couldn't even remember his name. All she knew was that she was five and he was four and they used to pull their bedspreads off theirs beds and curl up on the floor next to each other to pretend they were camping. It drove the director of the group home crazy, if only because he didn't understand why they would choose to sleep on the floor when they had perfectly good beds to sleep in, and they were too little to properly explain to him that it was just a game.

Anyway, she figured that Henry was probably going to try to worm another night out of camping; she might as well set the stage for compromise now. She'd slept outside one night for him already, and that had been plenty.

"Okay, now that that's settled," Henry said, once again commanding everyone's attention, "what are we going to do after we take down the tent and get everything upstairs? We still have all day to do fun camping things."

"We could go on another hike," Snow offered.

Emma winced. Another hike? She liked hikes and everything but second hikes on the same camping trip hadn't exactly ended well for her in the past.

Not that she really thought history was going to repeat itself. Clearly, no one in the tent had any intention of leaving her behind. Plus, she was older now, much more equipped to take care of herself. Even if something happened to separate her from her family, she could certainly find her way back to civilization a lot easier now than when she was seven. However, as Emma was discovering, reason and emotion were two separate things. She had to bite her tongue to keep from adamantly refusing the second hike.

"We could make up a scavenger hunt list or something before we go and play against each other as we follow the trail," Snow continued, focusing on Emma to carefully gauge her reaction. She must have seen the panic in Emma's eyes because she took her daughter's hand in her own, as if to tell her that she was there and had no intention of going anywhere.

"What, like identifying six different kinds of birds following us around?" David teasingly asked his wife while giving Emma's knee a gentle pat.

"Something like that, yes," Snow replied, shooting her husband an amused look.

She let go of Emma's hand and bit into her doughnut as if she hadn't just done something so … motherly. A large part of Emma was embarrassed by her apparent need for physical comfort from both her parents – and a little weirded out by it, to be completely honest. All those years of learning to fend for herself were being completely undone by her own, long-suppressed insecurities.

She didn't think she liked this development. At all.

Still, there was a little girl buried somewhere deep inside her, a little girl who longed to latch onto her mother's hand and squeeze tight. A little girl who wanted desperately to let her father wrap her in a big bear hug. A little girl who knew all too well how it felt to be completely alone in the world and was thrilled that she didn't have to be alone anymore.

This dichotomy, this war within her between the self-sufficient adult who didn't need anybody and the little girl who just wanted her parents to make everything better … it was enough to make her head swim.

Seemingly oblivious to his mother's mental wanderings – which Emma took as a good sign, since it meant she hadn't _completely_ lost her careful control – Henry exclaimed, "We can follow the brook this time! Remember, Mom? You said we could follow the brook."

When Emma hesitated, Henry almost immediately gave her the Stage One Puppy Dog Eyes. _Seriously_, Emma thought, _those things should be illegal_. One of these days, she needed to learn how to build up an immunity to puppy dog eyes.

One of these days was apparently not today, though, because she sighed and found herself saying. "Okay, I guess we can follow the brook to see where it leads._ After_ we take the tent down and get everything put away."

"Yes! Thank you!" He happily went back to his remaining few bites of cinnamon doughnut.

Snow caught Emma's eye and gave her a reassuring smile. No words passed between them but words weren't needed. The love and comfort in Snow's eyes had said everything: _I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to worry._

Emma averted her gaze, focusing on her breakfast while trying to calm her nerves. Seriously, the amount of worrying she was doing over this was ridiculous. No one was going to leave her. No one was going to get lost. All they were going to do was follow a brook to see where it ended while maybe playing some kind of silly scavenger hunt game. Last night's activities had turned out just fine, and so would this.

Henry set his plate down and swallowed the rest of his milk in one big gulp. "I should bring a change of socks this time," he said, mostly to fill the silence as his mother and his grandparents finished their meals. "That way I can wade in the brook as we follow it."

"Why are you so interested in finding out where the water goes?" Emma asked, not unkindly. She just curious as to why the kid had such a fascination with a random stream in the middle of the Storybrooke woods.

He thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "I don't know, really. I guess I just like solving mysteries."

Everyone smiled at him, all thinking the same thing: if he hadn't liked solving mysteries, perhaps none of them would even be having this conversation. Without Henry bringing Emma to Storybrooke, the curse would still be active and they'd all still be separated from each other.

Thankfully, before anyone could get too bogged down in emotion, David asked, "Are we giving this an operation name?"

Once again, Henry frowned in thought. "I'll have to get back to you on that," he said after a long beat. "I want to make it something _good_."

Emma smiled. "Like Operation … Water Works?"

Henry wrinkled his nose and shook his head at her. A moment later, his entire face lit up. "Operation Sidewinder!"

"Sidewinders live in the desert, though, not water."

"Maybe, but the brook winds through the woods, so it sort of works."

Emma glanced up at her parents, who looked thoroughly amused. Neither one of them seemed to want to argue the point, so she simply shrugged at her son. "All right, then. Operation Sidewinder it is."


	15. Chapter 15

The tent came down with far less difficulty than it went up, a fact which made both David and Snow let out soft breaths of relief. David was clearly thrilled that he wouldn't have to rely on his daughter to swoop in and save the day like the previous night. Snow, on the other hand, was simply relieved for Emma's sake that the process was relatively stress-free.

She'd kept a watchful eye on her daughter throughout the entire cleanup process. Emma had been fine while rolling up the sleeping bags and taking everything out of the tent. As the morning wore on, however, she'd grown quiet and tense.

With her heart breaking for her baby girl, Snow helped her husband repack the tent in its bag while Emma and Henry started bringing the rest of the camping gear up to the apartment.

It only took two trips to clear the yard of their gear. Emma hadn't said a word aside from a couple of monosyllabic answers to questions, so Snow told her she could head upstairs to change if she wanted. She apparently wanted – though it was a toss-up whether she really wanted to change or just needed a moment alone – because she gave Snow a grateful smile and slipped up to the loft.

Henry hooked his backpack with his change of clothes over his shoulder and took over the bathroom for a shower not long after Emma went upstairs, leaving David and Snow alone to talk. "How's she holding up?" David murmured softly so Emma wouldn't be able to hear him from the loft.

"She's trying to hide it but she's getting nervous."

David cast a pained glance at the metal staircase to the loft before nodding and meeting his wife's gentle gaze. "How are _you_ holding up?"

And all at once, all the emotion Snow had been holding back for her daughter's sake came spilling out. "Thirty-two hours. She was scared and alone and without food and water for thirty-two hours. She was only seven! Those hours must have felt like an _eternity_ to her. And that was only one incident! Our little girl had to deal with so much, David. Just … so much."

He immediately wrapped his arms around her. The second he pulled her towards him, she collapsed against his chest. The tears were coming fast and furious now, soaking his T-shirt. "I never wanted this for her. I never wanted ..."

"Shh," he murmured, squeezing her tightly and running one hand up and down her back. "She knows we didn't want this life for her. She knows we would give anything to be the ones who'd raised her, to have loved her the way she deserves."

Snow swallowed hard, trying to collect herself. After taking a moment to just stand in her husband's arms, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. She didn't want Emma to know she'd been crying, which in and of itself made a small smile pull at her lips. If Emma had been crying, she would be doing the same thing as Snow was now so as not to let anyone else know. "I know she knows, but like she once said to us, knowing doesn't change what she went through."

"Snow ..."

"No, David. She and I talked back when I was just Mary Margaret, remember? She didn't open up a lot but she told me enough. All those people who were supposed to help her … none of them cared enough. They looked at her and didn't think about her at all; they only thought about what they could get from her."

David looked down and swallowed hard at that, making Snow wince. She hadn't wanted to hurt her husband but she needed him to understand. "And now, knowing that she spent thirty-two hours wandering through the woods, hungry and thirsty? Wondering if anyone even cared enough to go looking for her? She was seven years old, David, and she didn't have the support system to believe that anyone was looking for her. Can you imagine? All those hours, not knowing if she would ever be found, not knowing if anyone even wanted to find her ..."

From the look in Charming's eye, Snow could tell that he longed to pull her back into a tight and comforting hug but knew doing so would only make her start crying again. Instead, he latched onto her hands and squeezed tightly. "Snow, don't do this to yourself. We did what we had to do. You know as well as I do that sending her through that wardrobe was her best chance … her _only_ chance. Do you really believe that Regina would have let her live if she'd caught her?"

It was Snow's turn to swallow hard as she shook her head. No, she did not at all believe that Regina would have let baby Emma live if she'd arrived in time to stop her from going through the wardrobe. Even if Emma had been cursed with the rest of them, Regina wouldn't have wanted to take the chance that the prophecy would play out as it was supposed to – with Emma somehow breaking the curse after twenty-eight years.

"People in this world were beyond cruel to her," Charming continued. "Believe me, there are more than a few of them I would track down if I could leave Storybrooke. But nothing can be done about it now. No matter how much we might want to, we can't rewind time, but you know what? Our baby survived it all, and she's a hell of a lot stronger for it."

"I know," she nodded, running her thumbs up and down his hands. "I just wish we'd been the ones to give her that strength. I wish she'd learned to be strong in a positive way and not because she had to be strong just to survive. I wish she could have grown up the way she was supposed to grow up." She sniffled. "The curse hurt us all but she was probably its biggest victim. It took our happy endings from us but it took _everything_ from her."

"And yet, in the end, look what it gave all of us," he said, darting his eyes to the loft before refocusing on his wife's face.

In an instant, she understood: Emma wouldn't be Emma without her time alone in this world. If they hadn't sent her through the wardrobe and given her a life outside of the curse, she wouldn't have had Henry. Those missing twenty-eight years of their daughter's life were certainly painful to come to terms with, but they wouldn't have their family without them.

Snow smiled up at her husband, swallowing the rest of her tears. She wasn't okay with everything, not by a long shot, but he'd given her some sorely needed perspective.

She'd calmed down just in time, too, because the sound of Emma's soft footsteps on the metal staircase startled both David and Snow back to the present. He let go of her hands as they backed away from each other almost guiltily, causing Emma to give them a teasing side-eye. "If I'm interrupting something, let me know and I'll go back upstairs until you're ready. I hope I'm not, though, because … ew."

Leave it to Emma to unknowingly inject some much-needed humor into an uncomfortable situation. Snow and David both chuckled. "No, you're not interrupting anything," Snow replied.

"Thank God," Emma jokingly muttered. She paused, her brow wrinkling in concern when she spotted the red rimming her mother's eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Snow assured her. She reached out, lightly taking her daughter's hand in her own. "We were just talking."

Emma raised her eyebrows, her disbelief obvious. "If you say so."

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, with Emma knowing something more had been going on between her parents but also knowing neither of them wanted to share it with her. Eventually, David said, "You know, I was thinking instead of a scavenger hunt, maybe we could play a bingo type game."

A groan escaped Emma's lips. "What is it with you people and bingo? Bingo is _awful_. As I believe I've mentioned before, bingo is a game for small children and the elderly."

"Aw, come on, Emma," he teased, winking at Snow, "you didn't mind bingo all that much."

Snow had to muffle a snicker with a faked cough at the annoyed glare Emma shot her father. "Were you _at_ the table with us that night? No bingo. If we're playing hiking trail bingo during this trip, let me know now and I'll just stay here and … I don't know, clean or something."

"Wow," David said, choking back a snicker of his own. "That's quite the serious threat. I guess hiking trail bingo is a no."

Emma started to smile, seemingly forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be acting stern. She quickly wiped the smile off her face and gave a curt nod instead to keep up appearances. "Damn straight hiking trail bingo is a no."

They fell silent as Henry stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered, changed, and running his fingers through damp, towel-dried hair. "Bathroom's free!" he hollered on his way up the stairs to put his pajamas and towel in the hamper.

"I guess that means it's my turn," David said, giving his wife and daughter a smile. Then he winked and raised his voice so Henry could hear him as he headed towards the bedroom to grab a change of clothes. "Just as long as Henry didn't use up all the hot water!"

From the mischievous giggle that filtered down from the loft, Snow gathered that her husband would be taking a very quick and rather tepid shower.

Left alone with her mother, Emma turned to her and asked softly, "Seriously, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Snow assured her with a gentle smile. "The more important question is, are you okay? With the second hike, I mean. Because we can easily think of something else to do if–"

"No, no, you don't have to think of anything else to do," Emma interrupted. "I'm okay with it." She hesitated a brief moment before adding, "Well, once we find the brook, I'll be okay with it."

Snow's smile grew wider as she gripped her daughter's hands in her own. She had no idea whether or not Emma realized how big of a step she'd just taken by admitting that she wasn't a hundred percent okay with their choice of activity for the day. Snow knew how big of a step it was, though, and that was all that mattered. "We won't let Henry out of our sight, Emma."

Emma nodded, beginning to squirm uncomfortably under her mother's gaze.

Before she had a chance to think better of it, she tightened her hands around Emma's and said, "We won't let you out of our sight, either."

With those words, the step Emma had taken grew even bigger. Instead of pulling away or making some kind of sarcastic joke to take focus off the emotion, Emma squeezed her mother's hands back and murmured, "Thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** It never fails to blow my mind how awesome you all are. Thank you so much for all your reviews, follows, favorites, and words of encouragement. You guys are seriously the best readers a writer could ask for. I sincerely hope you've all enjoyed this story. :)

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Once again, the bird cavalry showed up to shadow the family as they made their way down the same winding path through the trees they'd followed the day before. Shadow the family or protect them, Emma wasn't sure which. She shook her head but didn't bother calling attention to it. This was what her life had come to now. A flock of birds flying from one tree to to another after her family was considered a normal occurrence.

_Any minute now_, she thought, _I'm going to wake up back in my old apartment in Boston and wonder what the hell I ate before I fell asleep to give me dreams this freakin' weird._

Although her life had certainly become more bizarre than she could have ever imagined, the thought of everything after Henry knocked on her door being a dream made her unimaginably sad. She had a family now, the family she'd long ago convinced herself she would never have. It may have been an unconventional family but it was _hers_ and she didn't want to let it go.

She shook her head again, this time to shake herself back to the present. They'd been walking for a while and she suddenly realized she was getting thirsty. "Hey, kid," she called to Henry, who was a few paces ahead of her on the trail. "Hold up. I'm lightening your load."

Henry paused in his tracks, slipping one strap of his backpack off his shoulder. Just as Emma caught up to him, he dug out a bottle of water and handed it to her with a smile.

"Thanks," she said before twisting off the cap and downing a large gulp.

"You're welcome," he said, resisting an amused grin. After he hooked the strap over his shoulder again and readjusted the weight of the backpack, he and Emma resumed their walk down the trail. For a long moment, he watched her cast quick glances over her shoulder and up at the trees every few seconds. "Are the birds creeping you out?"

"A little," she admitted softly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Snow, who had been walking ahead of them hand-in-hand with David, said. She tugged her husband to a stop, turned to face the trees, and looked up at the birds perched in the branches overhead.

All at once, loud chirping filled the warm air, as if in answer or apology to whatever Snow had silently communicated. Then, one by one, they flew off in the direction they had come. "I didn't say anything because that creeps me out more than the birds following us does," Emma replied, failing to hide the little smile curled on her lips.

Snow grinned at her before stepping forward and playfully taking her daughter's hand in her own. "And just what is wrong with being able to communicate with our fine feathered friends, hmm?"

"There are so many things wrong with that sentence that I don't even know where to begin," Emma quipped, making both Snow and Henry giggle.

Henry quickened his pace to catch up with his grandfather, leaving Snow and Emma on their own. They walked down the path hand-in-hand for a minute or two before Emma slipped her hand free. To fill the comfortable silence, David had once again decided to identify various animal tracks and plants.

Emma noted with amusement that Henry seemed to be eating it all up. Maybe they'd have to continue this nature walk stuff.

Of course, if they did, she would have to send the kid on nature walks with either his grandfather or his grandmother. Even after all her time in the Enchanted Forest, the only plant Emma knew for sure how to identify was poison ivy. In the Forest, she'd learned to identify by sight which berries she could eat and which plants never to go near, but she didn't remember all their names.

Emma heard the brook before she saw it. It wasn't until they rounded a curve in the path that the water came into view. Henry took off towards it in a run. Emma tensed and started to go after him, but Snow grabbed her hand to hold her in place. "I've got him," she murmured to her daughter.

Before Emma had a chance to protest, Snow quickened her pace and caught up with Henry at the water's edge. Henry excitedly plopped down on the bank and pulled off his sneakers and socks. Emma sighed, mostly in relief that _someone_ was with her kid but also partly in frustration.

"What's the matter?" David asked her softly.

"Nothing, really," she shrugged. "It's just that I kind of feel like I should be running after my own kid, you know?"

David looked her over before returning his gaze ahead of them at his wife and grandson. "I think she's trying to tell you that you don't have to do everything on your own anymore. Family does mean added responsibility, but it's shared responsibility." He turned his head and gave Emma a little smile. "Granted, it's a clumsy way of trying to tell you that, but I think that's what she's doing."

His words from the previous night about the whole family reconnection thing not being effortless for them, either, came back to her. With anything that wasn't effortless, there were bound to be a few awkward moments, a few lessons that didn't come out the way they were intended. Was this simply one of them? Even if it wasn't, the whole notion of shared responsibility was so foreign to Emma that she didn't think she knew how to translate it into a language she understood.

David must have been able to gather as much from her body language because his smile grew kinder even as sadness flickered into his eyes. "I know this is all hard for you, Emma. I know letting people in doesn't come easily, and I know that your trust has to be earned. Unconditional love is something you've never had." His voice broke a little on that last sentence but he swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat and continued. "Until now. We love you, Emma, and we love Henry. You both mean to the world to us. I know it's going to take time, but I want you know that you can trust us."

"I do know," Emma assured him in a whisper because dammit, she was choking up now, too, and a whisper was the only thing she could manage.

He smiled at her but before things could become awkward, they both turned their attention back to Henry and Snow ahead of them. Henry dipped first his big toe and then his whole foot into the brook. The water must have been cold because he shivered as if he'd gotten a sudden chill before stepping in with his left foot. After giving himself a moment to get used to the temperature, he began wading forward.

"Be careful," Emma called when he skidded on a wet rock underfoot. "We have a change of socks but not a whole change of clothes."

He laughed before nodding at her to let her know he understood.

Emma smiled to herself as she watched her mother walk along the bank next to Henry, who was babbling on and on about who knew what. Out of her peripheral vision, she caught her father staring at her as if trying to determine whether or not he'd pushed her too hard.

He had pushed but not overly so. She swallowed hard and decided to take a chance, to let him know she was okay and that she was trying. "When I was lost in the woods that night, I wished my parents would find me. Not Mr. and Mrs. Browne but my _real_ parents. You and her, I guess. It was the first time in over a year that I'd wished for my real parents."

He didn't say anything. When she glanced over at him, she could tell that he was simply trying to find the correct words. "Emma," he said after a moment, "I hope you know we wish we could have been there for you."

"I do," she assured him. She finally drew to a stop on the path and turned to face her father. "And I do understand that you put me in that wardrobe to save me. She would have killed me, wouldn't she? Regina, I mean. Regina would have killed me."

David swallowed hard and reached out to cup her face in his hands, much in the same way Snow had when the curse first broke. To her credit, Emma didn't flinch or pull away. "Yes, Emma. I believe she would have."

Emma gave him a little smile as he dropped his hands back down to his sides. "See? You saved me. And if you hadn't sent me here, I wouldn't have Henry. Don't get me wrong, it sucked beyond words when I didn't know. I wondered every day why my parents didn't want me, but now? Now I know that I was wanted and that I was loved ..."

She trailed off and dropped her gaze to her feet, the emotion becoming far too strong for her comfort. David lifted her chin with his finger and looked at her with such strong love in his watery eyes that tears immediately welled in hers. "You, my darling daughter, would have been cherished."

Before Emma's tears had a chance to spill over, Henry's voice filtered down to them through the trees. "Mom? Gramps? Where'd you guys go? I think I've figured it out! The water leads to the toll bridge!"

They both snickered, Henry's voice easing the emotional tension between them. David smiled at her. "We'd better catch up with him."

Emma nodded in agreement with a smile of her own. As they started walking down the path, Emma slipped her hand into her father's. His hand tightened around hers without a moment's hesitation, making Emma's smile grow wider.

This family thing was still awkward and still in transition. However, slowly but surely they were settling into a rhythm and a routine. With a little smile, Emma realized that this routine and this rhythm was exactly what she'd been missing her entire life.


End file.
